


Sweet Thistle

by geekinlikeaboss



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, One Shot Chapters, crush growing into romance, loose story line, mutual respect, romance becoming love, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 75,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekinlikeaboss/pseuds/geekinlikeaboss
Summary: Legolas has a massive crush on Haldir. Slow burn.





	1. Chapter 1

The Elvenking of Eryn Galen was proud of his grove.

Which is not to say that all elves are not proud of their woodland realms. Nor that all elves are not, inherently proud creatures by their very nature. But Thranduil was, even among his own kin, notable proud and thereby noticeably proud of anything that was a part of his realm. The massive forest was by any estimation a great and magnificent landscape of thickly threaded trees that stretched for days of travel even to the most practiced of adventurers. It's paths wrapped about glen and field, splitting to run along deep rivers and shallow creeks. The Greenwood, (for this was still in the days when it was called the Greenwood by any speaker of the common tongue) was in many ways a symbol of the nature of life itself, for all things in the woodland realm lived, died and were reborn through the fertile earth that provoked such towering trees and wide red capped mushrooms. The animals that called this place home were well protected from the sharp end of a hunters arrow. There was a quiet, autumnal peace that dwelled here, allowing itself to linger happily amid the deep and dappled colors.

So then, it would be safe to say that Thranduil had a reason to be suitably proud of his realm. 

But it was of this particular grove that he found reason enough to call together a great festival, inviting the elves of many realms to come and partake of it's supple green foliage in the prime of a breezy and beautiful summer. This was no small undertaking. One could not expect to entertain so many grand guests and noble folk by dressing a paupers table. Thranduil was quite reliant upon his dear wife to ensure that all was properly laid. For many weeks the elves did as their lady bid them, scouring the verdant wood for all the plentiful choices it had to offer. 

In the smoke houses stood three hundred haunch of venison, many more brace of rabbit and quail bound so that their meat would retail it's unique flavors. As the eve of the feast neared, long pink salmon flanks appeared, placed on planks of wood, wrapped in parchment paper with onions, herbs and lemon to ensure their succulent flavor. Vegetables were amassed, cleaned, chopped and put into pies or roasted and glazed with sauces or stuffed inside a bird to pour open in colorful displays like a cornucopia of farming skill. The staff bustled about with great dedication, producing tray after tray of baked goods piled high with little glazes and custards stuffing them to the point of bursting. Little thief hands snuck them from their proper place when they thought no one was looking, but their antics were treated with tender patience. Elflings were guilty of being both precious and precocious things even at the best of times. But so near and dear were they that none could bare to effect any manner of discipline upon them. Besides, they were not so given to ill manners as the offspring of some race, and a missing pastry cost no one a moment strife. Sticky fingers were cleaned, sugar was wiped off cheeks and they were tutted out of the way to go and play amid the roots and flowers while the adults worked. 

And of course, as could be expected from any Greenwood social function, cask after cask of lush red wine.

These were days of peace and prosperity, and such times were meant to be treated with care. Still, it came yet as some shock to find the dwarven kings of Erebor were counted among the invited and honored guests. Their lonely folk most often kept their own council but they were attracted by riches. And nothing now could be seen as more rich than this finely crafted woodland kingdom. The stout, bearded folk nodded with dry approval, not wishing to give away just how impressed they were with their surroundings. But it was quite clear just how much impetus this instilled in the King Under the Mountain and his kinfolk as they bent the knee to Thranduil and thanked him for being such a gracious host. The children of Thrain would not forget the smug generosity displayed during the fete. But it would have been absolute anathema to have been ungrateful here and now.   
Instead they chose to eat and drink plenty, which could hardly be deemed and insult at a feast!

As evening turned to night, the silvery threads of moonlight shone through the trees and were caught by many thousands of small stones which hung in the boughs. It illuminated the grove, entertaining the gathered people with flickers of iridescent light that dances amid their clothing. A contented sound of awe rose from the crowd and polite clapping followed as Thranduil and his lady wife entered dressed in matching robes. Peeking out from behind her skirt was a small elfling child, clinging to his mother but watching the proceedings with keen interest behind his blue eyes. As his parents descended into the crowd to talk, the child crept about, perhaps a bit annoyed by the way he was patted and spoke about as though he were not a part of the conversation.

“Let him wander.” Thranduil instructed, holding his wifes hand and keeping her attention to him. “He can do no harm, nor can harm come to him with these such friends around us.” He promised her with firm assurances. A slim golden eyebrow raised as he saw a red headed girl run through the crowd after him, keen to be on his heels. But he said nothing. They were but children, sweet and full of innocent friendships. It was well enough that Legolas be permitted to make friends his own age. That alone was rare enough for their kind. But he was resolved to keep an eye on things. Friendships begun in youth often grew to become something with more depth and intimacy in later years. Young Tauriel was sweet enough now. But Thranduil did not intended to let his son become too latched on to someone who's birth did not bring her high enough to be his sons beloved. 

~For now they are but children. Let them be as such.~ He led his wife over to speak to Elrond and Celebrian of Imladris, content to renew old friendships of his own.

Tauriel was dressed in a dress of soft blue with little ringlets tied back behind her hair in little silver threads. She was lucky, and she knew this, to have been born near to the same season as the young prince Legolas, for this allowed them to be so close in friendship despite their difference in status. As his companion, she was given many little things like pretty clothing and nice bedecked things for her lovely ginger hair. Though she wanted and asked for little to none of it, her parents had told her to be gracious. And Tauriel was far from an ungracious child. She hiked up her skirts as they threaded about the party guests, tucking them up between her legs and into her belt to make them into more comfortable trews. “Legolas? Where are you going?”

“I do not know. I do not want to be at this party. It is of little interest to me. It is only mother and fathers friends. They will dote on me for a time and pat my head and tell me how sweet and darling I am. And I do not want them to.” He pouted out his little lip and tried to adjust the perfect white draping of his long sleeves so that he would not keep trodding upon them as he walked. The fabric was layered, and yet light as a leaf upon the water. But he was still quite the tiny thing and so it did not quite have the elegant look on the elfling as it did his more statuesque father. However, he did not yet dare to remove it. Many seamstresses had labored for some amount of months ensuring every stitch of embroidery would catch the light and create the pretty rainbows of color that seemed to glimmer from it. His mother would be greatly distressed if he simply cast it off on the ground. 

The female elf followed him aimlessly. Legolas, she had discovered some time ago, was prone to moodiness and bouts of either discontent or boredom. Though it often confused her as to how the son of such a high born elf could ever be bored in a palace of wonders and glory such as this, she kept it to herself. If her friend would not appreciate the magnificence to which he had been endowed, she would. All elves were educated as to their histories and heritages. She knew well where their people came from, how they came to dwell in the world of man. She could name the many nobles lines of elvish lineage from memory and could do reading, writing in Sindarin and Silvan and the common tongue, and arithmetic (if she was given enough time to work it out). All these were things an elf of her standing might not have been introduced to were she not considered Legolas's companion. But by all accounts, her most favorite thing of all, were those times when the scouts would take her and he out into the Greenwood to teach them the many paths and secrets it held. This was a right to any elf in Eryn Galen, but few took to it as she did. And while the son of Thranduil was indeed a sharp and notable pupil, Tauriel flattered herself by thinking that the scouts doted on her perhaps a bit more than their prince. It was she they came to and offered to guide through the woods at night so that she might know these paths better. 

“Why do mother and father host such things? They might speak to Lord Elrond if they wish at length. They might speak to Lady Galadriel if they wish without even moving from their throne room. Why must they send out such invitations and bring every elf in Middle Earth...”

“I expect this is not nere enough to make every elf. Lady Galadriel did not come, she instead sent her envoys to make a presence for her.” Tauriel considered. “I would expect then, that it was much like when we were given a new bow and arrows from the scouts. We could not stop showing them off to everyone, even when they were proven tired of hearing about it. Your father has a new grove of fine trees. I should think him likely then to show them off again and again.”

Legolas stopped, his wide blue eyes blinking as though he truly had not thought of this. “I suppose then that it might be so.” He turned to her. “You're very clever, Tauriel.” And just like that, his face broke into a smile of wide mischief. “Think on something for us to do then! You always come up with the best games!” 

She looked about the crowd and someone caught her eye. As Elrond and his lady wife had come to visit, so had they brought with them their daughter Arwen, who was only perhaps a small bit older than they were. She was dark of hair and had rosy cheeks, and her gait was every bit as much a noble lady elf as she strode by her mothers side. But her eyes held the same kind of distant boredom of this function as the two of them. “That is Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Celebrian. Have you met her before?”

“I have not, though I am told she was by her fathers side when I was presented at court. So she has met me.” Legolas peered over with great interest.

“Well then, shall we not get to know her better? She will hold Imladris one day as you will hold Eryn Galen, and as your fathers are close friends so too then should you be.” Tauriel did not wait for him, knowing her friend well enough by now to see he was keen on the idea. She trod over quickly, then turned and blinked. “You ought to offer her a pastie.” 

“I...ought to?”

“Yes. You ought to.”

“But there are pasties a plenty if she wishes for one. Why then do I need to offer it to her first?” 

“Because you are a prince here and she is a princess and it seems a polite thing to do that you would be so gracious a host.” She said, rolling her eyes about with a purse of the lips. “Do you pay no attention to lessons? It will look good.”

Legolas turned a bit peachy about his cheeks and grabbed a plate, putting a few apple tarts and custard filled popovers on it before straightening his robes and walking over to the young elvish girl. 

Arwen did not seem to notice him at first, but Thranduil did. As his deep brows raised with interest, they turned to look at the small child, and then Arwen followed their gaze. 

“A tart for you, lady Arwen? I am told you gave me a gift at my presenting.”

Elrond and his wife smiled, and Thranduil let a twitch of it come over his lips. He caught his sons eyes and nodded slightly, showing his approval of such a sweet gesture.

Arwen seemed surprise for her part, but handled it with aplomb. “I thank you, dear prince.” she selected a fine apple tart and ate it delicately, wasting not a crumb. “The apples here are very fresh. It is very kind of you to invite my family to sample such wonderful foods.”

“We have much to share. If you might, you could come and play with us...myself and my friend, Taruiel.” Legolas offered and looked up at his father, clearly asking his permission to steal her away for a time.

Now this Thranduil fast approved of. Taruiel was a fine child, but Arwen had more the ideal characteristics of someone he would wish to see Legolas happily wedded to some day. Anything that could strengthen the bonds of friendship between Imladris and Eryn Galen would always hold sway in his mind. He looked to Celebrian and gestured. “Would you permit my son and his companion to play with your daughter for a time?”

“Most certainly. I remember being a child at these parties. The young are always letting their minds dart about to the next thing. It is how they learn best. And yet I am afraid politics make for dull conversation at such a young age.” Celebrian laughed gayly and touched her daughters shoulder. “Would you like to run off and play with them for a while?”

Now for the children of men, growing older is something they covet strongly. The mere difference of a season makes one who is still a child strive to behave as an adult and therefor lord their authority over the younger ones in their pack. This may indeed be necessary for men, who are not among the long lived in Middle Earth. But for elvish children, who have many thousands of years to look forward to in adulthood, their youths are a thing to be treasured and clung to for as long as it may last. Arwen's dark eyes brightened at the excuse to be off and play and she curtsied quickly, the two children running off as many of the guests chuckled and watched them go. They did, all of them, remember their younger days with a sense of carefree nostalgia that was not lost on the grown ups of any race.

Tauriel bowed smartly as Legolas returned with the princess, introducing her promptly by all the appropriate titles and such. She could clearly see the princess's eyes glitter when she came back up. 

“Are you a boy elf then, that you do not curtsy with dainty feet?”

“I am a girl. But I find bowing to be more to my liking if it pleases you lady.” She said, worried she had offended so early in this new relationship. 

“What pleases you pleases me. I am the guest here.” She smiled with pretty, white teeth and the three of them were then on fast friends. The elves did not make passels of children as did so many others. One could ill afford not to be on good terms the with the few that did exist, and Arwen, having none around her age in her own home, was eager to play while she could. 

They wandered about the party, snatching treats when they were hungry and dodging between flowing skirts and robes, much to the amusement of the guests. They invented a delightful game called Poke the Dwarf wherein they tried to sneak about and see who could get their hands on the great flowing beards of these stocky, proud people without being notices. Thankfully, the dwarvish people had about the same level of tolerance to small children as did their lengthy elvish hosts, and took the game in good stride, laughing and playing along.

“Who has touched my beard? Was it you Thauld?” One dwarf remarked, playing at not being able to see the youths around them. 

“Twas not be Fauld? Was it thee Ulda?”

“Nay not me! I would never! Ouh perhaps it could have been Gerulf!”

“I then did no such thing!” Gerulf whirled about, dragging a giggling Legolas with him as the boys hand was tangled in his massive black, bushy beard. “Ouh me! My beard has gone most heavy recently! Perhaps I am in need of a trim with my massive heavy sword!”

Legolas shrieked with delight and dropped it, running off with Arwen and Tauriel as the dwarves laughed at the 'darling wee tykes'. But soon enough, as is wont to happen with any child, they grew bored again. Tauriel showed Arwen to the top of one of the towers, climbing along the winding stairs that grew up on the side of the beautiful thick tree trunks. Though the music of the party could still just reach them, the lights were down bellow and they could see out into the forest at night, and all it's quiet mystery. 

“It is so very beautiful here.” Arwen mused, sipping at some of the watered down wine that they were permitted. “You are very lucky to live in such a magnificent forest, the both of you.”

“Is Imladris not a forest then?” Tauriel said, quite curious about other places. 

“It is not. Our palace is in upon a hillside, with many waterfalls and rivers running through it, glittering like a thousand diamonds in the sunlight. My bedroom overlooks a small cliff-side with a pretty creek that catches the light of the sun as it sets every evening. I would hope that some day, the two of you might come to Rivendell and see it.”

“I would like that very much.” Legolas assured her. “I wish then that you would be staying longer than the festival. The scouts would surely then take us all out into the forest and you could see all the trees and the Glen of Blue Lilies.”

“What then is that?”

“It is a glen in my fathers realm where the lilies are blue and beautiful, and numerous as the stars in the sky. They are the palest and most vibrant shade of blue you have ever seen, and while father has forbidden anyone to pick them, I am sure he would be swayed to let me give you a pouch of their seeds so that you may grow them in Imladris if you would like to.” Legolas found himself warming to her immensely, and it occurred to him that he should be good and thank Tauriel at some point for her good idea of inviting Arwen along. Perhaps with a new quill for her arrows. She was quite fond of hunting.

“Ouh! It sounds lovely. I only wish we could see them. With a full moon high above, peeking about through the boughs of the trees, I am sure they would be a most wondrous sight to behold.”

“We should go then.” Tauriel said, her ears twitching with interest. “Right now.”

“Now? But is the forest not dangerous at night?”

“Not then if you know the way. And there is nothing out there that will bother us so long as we do not give it reason to do so.” The ginger elf looked at Legolas, waiting for him to chime in and either approve or shake his head at the idea.

But those blue eyes were quite game! “We should! I t is not a long journey. Barely an hour by foot. We will be there and back long before anyone knows we have vanished. And the grown ups shall be talking for a long time yet. My father likes his talking.”

“As does mine!” Arwen laughed and looked down. “But our clothing! Long walk or not, my mother will have fits if I ruin this dress she had made specially for me.”

“As will mine. But fear not. You are close then enough to Legolas in the legs and me in the chest. Between the two of us we can all be outfitted in breeches and tunic before we're off.” Tauriel offered to her.

“I have never worn breeches before!” Arwen seemed positively thrilled at the notion as they rushed up to their rooms, hurriedly fitting their garb together, excited for this tiny adventure of their own grand making. Soon enough, boots laced and with some snuck bread and cheese in their pouches, they were off, sneaking easily past the guards and out through the stables. Like many children, they were enchanted by their own cleverness, making up songs with one another as they trod over the tiny brooks and craggy outcroppings of trees and rocks, deeper and deeper into the woods.

We wander here  
Now on we go  
Upon the dewy ground!   
And make our way  
Through hill and so  
To the Glen of the Blue Lilies! 

They were off key, and the tune changed frequently as they tried to make up new verses with every round. But it was a fun song to sing as they traveled. Though perhaps they should have paid more attention to their path and less attention to the trail of the song, for soon enough, Tauriel began to look about with concern. 

“Legolas, was it right as the Shifting Bridge or left?” 

The blond elf boy paused to rub his chin, looking around. “I am certain for sure it was left, but thinking on it now, was that the direction we took?”

Arwen looked from one to the other. “Wasn't it? Or was it not? I am almost for certain myself that we went right.”

“Perhaps we meant to go left but then we went right instead.”

“Your left or my left?”

“We were facing the same direction, Legolas!” With a stamp of her foot, Tauriel turned to him, looking quite upset. 

“This was your idea!” He defended, crossing his arms and feeling quite foolish for having gone along with it to impress their new friend.

“Both of you, be still. It is not so far.” Arwen turned around and pointed to a light in the far off distance. “There! In this direction! I am sure if we go this way, following this light, we shall be back to the Halls of Thranduil in short order.” They were greatly comforted by her words and followed Arwen, hoping that by her being older than they, she might then know better than they. But as the path went deeper, the Rivendell elf princess seemed less sure. “I...I do not know these woods, so then I may be wrong. But I am almost certain that we have not passed through here before.”

“I know these woods, though by my own faith, nowhere near as well as ever I thought.” Legolas admitted sheepishly. “And you are right. I do not know where we are. And we have not passed this way before.”

“Do we know where to pass then?” Tauriel asked. “Then I can see no option but Arwen's then. Perhaps it is apart of scouts out on patrol and stopped for a campfire. If so, we will be home by morning and only in a bit of trouble and we will laugh about this later.”

“And if it is not scouts? What then?”

“...well...then whoever is out here will be in trouble for trespassing upon my fathers realm. Then we will be able to persuade them to be in somewhat less trouble for returning us to my home.” Legolas seemed a bit more confident of this decision. “Either way, it is still the only option that I see us having.”

They continued onward, the greenery becoming more sparse and the rocks turning sharper. What once had been streams running with fresh, clear water began to become stagnant and dreckish, smelling foul to their sensitive noses. There was a chittering noise griping like rodents in a den, and some sense of self preservation led them to crawl forward. There seemed little other choice than but to see this through to it's conclusion now. They crept in, peering over a fallen tree and parting the branches quietly. 

Arwen very nearly shrieked, but she was made of stouter stuff than that! She slapped a hand over her mouth and stilled her breath as they all did. 

Orcs!

There were but four of them, crouched and ugly thing, snorting as they roasted the haunch of some poor creature over their fire, poking at it's flesh to see if it was yet done enough to tear into. The meat hanging from the spit and tied about with twine to keep it from falling off. It was clear they had made sport of it, the head of the poor beast hung in a tree and was full of more arrows than it would have taken any decent bowman to kill it. They had been hungry, but the killing had been for the joy of it, and now they were bored and picking at one another out of spite. 

“What then made you choose this way eh? I can smell elves from here, I swear it. If we're run late of the crossing than there will be hell ta pay for it!”

“We not runnin late. This here is the closest path to Amon Lanc. Iffen we want to catch up with the others, we go this way. It's far enough from their elvish city. So long as we don't get stupid, we oughtenet ta get caught.” The other, a bigger orc with a knob on his head the size of a grapefruit spoke up, yanking off a steaming piece of half raw meat and chewing on it thoughtfully. “Once we arrive, there will be work to do. Good work. Chopping work.”

“Chop chop. Chopping work.” A grizzled looking orc chuckled and the slicing sound of his blade against a stone sang through the air. “Slippy sloppy choppy work.”

“Heh. Settle down Grundel. We're all eager for something the screams when it's cut.” 

The elfish children stared with horror at this. It seemed wrong to find orcs here, deep in the green woods. Orcs were still to them a thing of stories and bad dreams, a thing that one heard of in the histories their tutors made them learn. Elves found orcs to be among the most, if not the most, abominable creatures in all the world. It was anathema to know that they would dare so close to an elvish kingdom as this! 

Legolas felt his heart burn and he touched his bow. Tauriel's hand stayed him and she shook her head, whispering quietly. “We can not. We are outnumbered and we do not know where we are!” she looked around quickly. “We should find home, tell your father what we have seen.”

“By then they will have moved.” He defended, but Arwen spoke up.

“But we know where they are headed. The ugly one said Amon Lanc, where the stronghold of Dol Guldur stands to this day. If that is where they are headed, and that is where there are more orcs, than it would be by far wiser for us to give this information to Thranduil and your fathers scouts. We can not contend with four orcs on our own, much less more.”

“That ye cain't kiddies!”

The children shrieked as a fifth orc, one they had not seen coming back, came in behind them and lifted Tauriel easily, cackling gleefully as the other of his dark kindred looked up. “Look what we have here! A few lolly gagging elves sneakin about!”

“You let go a her!” Legolas yelled and kicked the orc in the shin, bruising his toes on the thick, ill kept armor. The big one laughed and shoved him back to the ground, leaving a big muddy handprint along his face. 

“Ouh now look at this! Two females and a male.”

“How then can ye tell the difference?”

“I know a one way...” One grinned with it's crooked and rotten teeth and they all began to laugh at the prospect of making sport of these defenseless younglings.

Arwen reached into her belt and drew out a dagger, plunging it into the foot of the one holding Tauriel! He let out a nasty grunting holler and dropped her friend, screeching as Arwen grabbed Legolas's hand and the took off into the woods, running from these terrible creatures! “Run! Be fleet and be clever but run!” 

“After them! They'll alert the others!” A squalling noise erupted from them and three more orcs joined in to the chase, following their prey through the woods. A clamor of blades and scuffling feet announced their presence as the children were driven ahead of them. They carried bows, but perhaps they were more bored than they had let on. Even as one of them limped forward with a fresh bleeding wound in his foot, they seemed to be enjoying the prospect of a chase. 

“We should split up! They can not chase all of us at once!” Arwen said as they tried to put ground between themselves and their persuers. 

“Are you mad? Then if we are caught, we are caught alone! No! We stick together! If they must take us, then they must do so by fighting us all at once!” Legolas insisted. “We need to find somewhere that they must come to us or a place where they can not come upon us at all!” It was lucky for them that the Greenwood elves were notoriously fleet footed, and even on uncertain ground, their pace was set to cling to the hilly and knotted area so that they might jump from place to place and not be halted by their feet caught in a ditch. 

“There! A den of sorts!” Tauriel's sharp eyes spotted and they turned, ducking into it quickly and hiding the entry with their cloaks as the thudding boots of the orc troops sounded overhead, dropping dirt and roots and bugs onto them. The elvish children held their breath as the wretch creatures howled out for blood, wanting theirs in particular. It was a fox den that they had held up in, barely big enough for the three of them, especially since a vixen and her kits were also curled towards the back, wondering what had brought these intruders. Tauriel hushed their whines gently, offering her hand to the mother so that she could sniff it and keep her babies quiet. “We can not stay here long.”

“Nay, we can not. But we do not know the way to the Halls of Thrnaduil from here. We do not even know where here is.” Arwen's ears pricked as she listened into the dense trees.

“Yes we do. If they are headed for Amon Lanc, and they want to avoid Eryn Galen all together by even the most far-reaching scouts, they will take the southern route. Which means we must be somewhere along it. It we are on the southern route, we can head roughly north until we see the lights of my fathers halls. We will find it, but we must tread carefully. They will be out looking for us.” Legolas peeked from the den and peeked about, listening, looking, watching. “I hear their loud boots, but headed that way.” He pointed.

“Then we go.” Arwen agreed and they headed to the North, slipping in through the trees, letting their cloaks keep them hidden from eyes. For what seemed like hours they walked and still seemed to gain no certainty of direction. 

“Surely they must be looking for us.”

“How can they, when we left out and they did not even know they were missing?” 

“Do not sound so hopeless. Even if they are not looking, there are always scouts. The closer we get, the more likely we shall run across them.” Tauriel promised, but in truth even she did not feel certain of this. But for her fears, she said nothing. She would not rob her friend of the hopes that they had. All they could do was keep walking and keep trying. What worried her more was what they had just discovered. Orcs in the Greenwood. Orc headed to Amon Lanc to meet more orcs. For what point and purpose she could not dare guess. But it was surely something that any worthwhile elf would report to their king. And she was steadfast determined to ensure this message was brought through.

“I see it!” Arwen shouted, pointing off into the distance. “More than that, this time I feel it. I feel the peace of Eryn Galen ahead of us!”

Thhhhhwock! 

A thick arrow planted itself before their path, and another followed, far too close to comfort! They children turned and saw the orc group baring down on them, blades raised, eager to take them to whatever dark and terrible fate awaited.

Shhhhhwick!

An arrow, fine and perfectly aimed, pierced through the air and slid itself into the skull of one orc, out the back, and embedded itself into the chest of the creature behind him, making both fall to the ground in shock before death took them. In seconds a troop of guards, clad in Lothlorien cloth, descended, joined quickly by Eryn Galen and Imladris folk, all baring weapons of choice and outnumbering the intruders three to one. 

The one who had fired the first arrow landed, putting himself between the children and the attacking band. “Behind me little ones.” He said, his blond hair flowing out behind him in thick locks. “Behind me, and down for the sake of your own safety.” He took out his blade and turned, spinning gracefully and slicing through the stomach of an orc, it's thick black blood spraying out in a fine arch and splattering the ground. 

Legolas watched this elfish man swing his blade and fell another orc easily, cleaving it's shoulder open and ending it's life with a single blow to the heart as he protected the small runaways. Every move was flawless, precise. Not a single muscle wasted in unneeded action! His brown eyes flashed like cool amber stones when the snarling, wretched orcs ran at him, screeching their attacks and filthy insults at him. He did not care. He fought as only those born to wield a blade could fight, with the single minded purpose of finishing the battle. 

How glorious he was! How magnificent in the moonlight! He looked back only a few times, to ensure that his charges were safe, but oh it was enough! Legolas felt something being given without a second thought, something he was far too young to fully yet understand, but it would linger with him for many years from this day forth. 

Their rescuers made quick work of the pathetic rabble, leaving only one alive with an arrow in it's shoulder. The lead elf approached, standing above him once he was sure the children were protected. “What business does a troop of orcish scum have in the trees of Eryn Galen? Speak vile creature! Your wretched life draws to an end.”

The orc cackled and sneered, snapping it's sharp teeth at him as though daring the man to bring his fingers closer. “No business of yours as to my business. I die and take my secrets with me, whining elf!”

“So be it.” He lifted his blade and ended the thing quickly, cleaning the shining weapon on it's cloak. He instructed his elves to look the rabble over, see if they could find any clue as to where the troops had been headed, before turning to the three errant elfings. “Mistress Turiel, Princess Arwen.” He bowed gently before looking at Legolas. “Prince Legolas. Your father would like a word with you.”

 

~~~~

“Of all the irresponsible, unaccountable actions, I would never have expected such things to come from my own son.” Thranduil looked down at the boy, his brows furrowed so deeply that they nearly joined together in the middle. Though an attentive person might witness the concern, the fear in his eyes as he looked at his bedraggled youth before him, but only a very attentive person. His wife had been so distraught that she could not stand it and very nearly fainted, having to be consoled by Elrond's wife. 

If Elrond and Celebrian were showing their worry and fury to their own daughter, he did not know. It was not his business to interfere with how other parents disciplined their children. However his own errant offspring was something else entirely! “To see mine own son, my on child gone missing was beyond frightful. A disturbing event which vexed both myself and your mother greatly. But to see that you were so foolish as to take Princess Arwen with you from under the nose of her own parents while they were guests of my Halls is beyond the pale! An unconscionable act, one by which Lord Elrond would not be beyond his rights to demand reparations for in putting his child in danger!” 

Legolas felt a short burst of childish indignation, but he knew better. His actions had indeed been foolish, and though it had not been originally his idea, he was the son of the Lord of this realm. The responsibility could fall on no other. He knelt down, bowing his head to his father. The shadows of the horns which bedecked the grand throne fell on his, intimidating with their sharp prongs pointed inward about him. “I have no excuse to offer. I acted out of foolish pride and impetus, wishing to impress our guests. I should never have taken Arwen or Tauriel into such a dangerous expedition. The blame is mine, and I will accept whatever punishment is to be met out...”

“Lord Thrnaduil...”

Legolas turned as he heard the now familiar voice and felt his heart still in his chest. The same blond elf who had first rescued them walked forward, standing next to him in proud, well tailored robes baring the sign a Lady Galadriel. 

“Forgive this interruption, but I am afraid it can not wait.”

“I am speaking with my son at the moment, Lord Haldir.” Thranduil had always been adept at keeping his emotions well hidden behind his expressions, as befitted a king of elves upon who's word sat the weight of ages. But it was none the less clear that his irritation was piqued. 

“Again I beg your indulgence, but the children have sworn that there is something important they must impart to you, information as to why these orc raiders were found within the boundaries of your kingdom.” Haldir looked to Legolas, nodding his head towards the great king. “Up boy. Your friends have spoken for you.”

“H-have they?” Legolas managed in return, his voice dried and still in his throat. Why now did he feel such a hesitation before this man? 

Haldir's smile was a kind and encouraging thing that seemed to bring out strength in his heart. “They have. They have said that your good wit helped them to be protected, and your knowledge of the forest ensured that they could be brought back home where we were able to find them. And they have said that you learned a great information which I would ask you to impart to your father now, which there is still time.”

Thranduil cast his gaze back to his son with interest, bidding him to rise and speak with but a movement of his hand. Legolas stood and swallowed, trying to find the words to speak with confidence before his father. “We came upon the orcs by accident, following the light of their fires and thinking them to be the lights of home. They were camped out along the southern most route, and when we smelled their evil stench we crawled to see what we had come upon. We listened to them speaking and they told of Amon Lanc, and the fortress of Dol Guldur where more of their kind lay in wait.” His father stiffened and sat forward, eyes darting towards Haldir as if to see whether the Lothlorien elf had noted this. Was it of some greater importance than he, being too young in years, could understand? “They spoke of work there, and they took great delighting in the idea that it would be bloody, gory work at that.”

“This is clearly of some importance. While I know I have no call within the bounds of your realm, Lord Thranduil, I would ask your kind permission to take a contingent of my men and your own and travel to Amon Lanc. We would report back to you with our finds and should the need arise, our Lady would most certainly wish to assist...” Haldir was cut off by a those eyes passing over to him insulted by the very idea that the Sindarin Lord would ever require assistance to maintain the peace of his own realm. 

“Your desire to assist is appreciated, Captain Haldir, but unnecessary. My own scouts will see to the hill and ensure that any filth dwelling within are summarily dealt with. No doubt it is but a rabble of orcs seeking a place of refuge from which to waylay travelers and return to the protection of my woods. They will soon discover there is no peace in the Greenwood for the grossness of orcs. You may however impart to her ladyship that when they are run from my boarders, they may well seek her own.”

“They would be foolish to do so. However your concern is heard, and I shall ensure her ladyship is kept very well informed of what has befallen the proud realm of Thranduil.”

Legolas could not speak! No one had ever spoken to his father with such clear disapproval of his tactics before, at least not within hearing of the king himself! His admiration of Haldir grew exponentially as he stood there, trying to sneak looks at the man without daring to make this too direct. 

Thranduil sucked in his lower lip and popped it out, cooling his anger. “You are dismissed, Captain Haldir. Please, return to your realm with our thanks for having not only attended our fete, but rescuing my son and returning him to us.” 

“It has been my honor to do so.” Haldir turned neatly on his heel and winked at Legolas, smiling with approval at the boys cleverness and tenacity before striding out the hall. 

“And you, my boy. I will expect you to show the most sincere apologies to Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian for endangering their child. After which you shall be confined to your quarters and your studies until such a time as I have deemed you suitably punished for your foolish actions. You may leave.” 

Legolas bowed obediently, though it had not escaped his notice that his father had not mentioned any apology to Tauriel's mother either by suggestion or direct command. He would give it none the less. Though the girls had given him credit for their survival, in truth they would not have lived till Haldir's rescue had they not relied upon one another. Tauriel was as responsible as he, and he as responsible as Arwen. He would never be so callous and mean as to forget this. 

But there was one person whim he dearly wished to thank at this moment. And given his father's curt suggestion, he did not have long in which to do it. Legolas ran down the halls, following the path to the front gate just in time to see Haldir mount his horse and turn. “Captain Haldir!” he yelled, running after the gelding at a quickening pace. “Captain Haldir, a moment, I beg of you!”

The Lothlorien warrior turned, his men following the sound of the little elf and smiling as he ran up over to them, those blue eyes looking up at the tall adults on horseback. “You need beg nothing of me, young Greenleaf. What is it may do for the noble son of our gracious host?” 

Legolas had not planned on what he might say. He had not thought he would speak to this man again. He hesitated, looking about at the adults waiting to see what it was he had gone to the trouble of chasing after them for. “I...I wish to give you a gift! For rescuing me...myself and my friends!”

Haldir chuckled, but not wishing to make light of the boy, responded with a sincere bow before regarding him patiently. “You owe me nothing. All lives are precious but that of a child is most dear.”

“Would you refuse it then, if I did give you a gift?” He knew of course that Haldir would not. No elf with any sense of decorum or propriety would ever turn down a sincerely meant gift of thanks. Such things had power in them, and were meant to be treasured. 

“Any gift imparted from you, young Legolas, would be something I would hold close to my person and be grateful to receive.” Haldir assured him. To all children everywhere, it means something to be taken seriously. Too often they are overlooked or treated with condescension by their elders, which is by far the worst mistake one might make to the fragile and often easily hurt feelings of the young. So when Legolas took a small silver holder from his hair, unbinding it from the braid and handing it out to Haldir in his tiny palm, the elf Captain handled it with great care. He looked at the little bead and the small rune of protection carved into the knot work before braiding a strain of his golden hair and fitting it neatly on the tip. “I will wear this as a moment of your kindness.” He bowed again, and turned his horse heading down the path which would bring him back to Lothlorien. “May we meet again, young Greenleaf! And may you learn the paths of these woods better by then!” 

“I shall!” Legolas promised himself, knowing that no force of any realm could stop him. No matter what it took, he would know this forest so well that he could trod it blindfold on a moonless night, till ever secret of it was his to know, so that if Haldir ever did return, he would be able to impress the man somehow rather than prove to be a problem child! Legolas touched the braid where the silver bead had been and could not stop fidgeting with it for several days, wondering if indeed Haldir would wear it, or if he would take it off once it began to bother him.


	2. Chapter 2

There are many kinds in this world, both fair and foul alike that populate the lands in droves, each unique and utterly their own as the races spread and find greatness in their shared interests and exchanges. Though the roads of middle earth go on and on for leagues upon leagues, there are no two alike in all the land, and one is benefited by offering respect first to any with whom they cross paths. It was with this thought in mind that Legolas attempted his very best to see the men surrounding him in throngs of amazed faces and stunned gaping mouths as they looked upon the elven entourage of Thranduil.

Despite the face that Thranduil himself had declined the invitation to attend.

The village was but a small farming conclave, surrounded by fields of wheat and barley, the mooing of cows and clucking of chickens, bellowing of pigs and goats making for quite the clamor. The people were polite and clean, if their cloth a bit worn of thread and their faces stunned with awe at their unusual guests. They were hospitable folk, bringing mugs of ale and bread with cheese and butter as was the tradition in such isolated communities. Visitors, no matter how strange and pointed of ear they were, meant news, and news often meant stories, which could be appreciated by anyone with ears for a tale.

Legolas spoke the common tongue, as did most with any manner of upstanding education and a desire to travel abroad as he had. Yet he was much more content to watch as his attendants did a great deal of speaking on his behalf. He was, in fact, a prince. And in the manner of most noble folk, one managed to appear more grand in intellect and status if they spoke very little and only then when needed and to a point. He kept to himself, smiling and nodding graciously as a young woman brought him a mug full of frothing beer and freshly baked good rye bread. He ate sparingly but yet enough so as to be a good guest, listening to what his companions were saying.

Elves were often seen to be haughty creatures by those who did not understand their ways. Yet this was not true. Any elf could count themselves as merry and glad of heart as could be once a song had broke out and a crowd was gathered. Besides, while Legolas must carry the baring of the son of Thanduil, the silvian elves are of no noble heritage, and may partake of the delights which might come to them in a crowded tavern of good folk.

Ciridan, a squire of his fathers household, had with him his lute, and had begun to play a light and joyful tune, reciting a composition of his own making as he smiled fondly at a pretty woman with red hair and freckled marking the bridge of her nose like pebbles shining in a river bottom. He sang a song of a red breasted robin who flitted about the trees, never thinking of what tomorrow might bring and perhaps living all the more happily for it's lack of foresight. It was the perfect sort of music for this environment, and the people seemed to be enjoying it immensely for all it offered. 

As the night continued, the music became more gentle and whimsical, people milling about and enjoying the company of these strange and silvery garbed folk. Legolas was surprised to find that he was being watched from beyond a heath fires. A small child, perhaps no older than eight in men's reckoning of age, had been peering at him from behind her mothers skirts all through the evening, too shy to approach but yet bold enough still to linger about in hopes of a better view of him. Now at last she seemed to have found her courage. She drifted from her mothers side to come closer to him, looking up into his blue eyes. 

All elves were glorious fond of children, and Legolas, though he had not ever met any since he himself was a youth, was no exception. He smiled warmly at the child, sitting forward and giving a small bow and he moved his hand forward to her. “Mae g'ovannen, winë. Well met little one. I am Legolas of the Greenwood.” He smiled warmly at her bright eyes and curious face, the small grin playing upon her lips quite a charming thing. “And who might you be?”

“Aiofe, of the Dellbrook farm lands.” She pointed behind her. “My father of Gerulf Dellbrook, my mother Lisbet.” She turned to look at him again, playing with her skirts and swishing them back and forth. “Are you really an elf?”

He could not help but laugh at the audacity of such a question. He leaned forward and drew back the side of his blond braids to show his long and pointed ears to her. It was a marvel to see the child's eyes grow even wider as her lips well open and a tiny gasp was just audible over the music. 

“My brother said that once, as he play in the glades to the east of here, he once saw an elfkin passing through the woods with a bow and a cloak of green. I did not believe him for mother said elves were not but fairy stories and campfire tales.” Aiofe giggled, delighted by this newly discovered truth. “Are there many of you?”

“There are indeed. What lies to the east is my land of Eryn Galen, The Greenwood in the common tongue, realm of my father Thranduil.” He explained tenderly.

“If the realm belongs to your father, than that must make you to be a prince.” She observed.

“This is true, but he has chosen to remain and to see to the affairs of his land rather than travel abroad. Thus he has sent me to convey his blessings and good will to our friends.”

Her mind whirled with the possibilities of this. “But then there must be more of you, not just in the Greenwood.” 

“There are many elvish kingdoms through out the land, and it is now that we travel to the land of Rivendell, Imladris, the realm of Elrond and his daughter Arwen, my dear friend and companion of childhood years. The celebration of her begetting one hundred years ago is upon her, and the festival to honor her is meant to be one of some doing. My father once invited her father to a festival, and so we have been invited to one of his.”

“That seems a very polite thing to do indeed. Are all elves so very polite?” Aoife asked, inquisitive as any intelligent child should be. 

“Well we do make a most honest and sincere effort to be as such.” He could not help the chuckle in his voice as he listened to her. She was quite precocious, which of course only charmed him all the more.

“Thats very good. Mother says it is important to be polite.” She tilted her head at him. “Do you have chickens in the Greenwood? We have a great many chickens here. And goats, and pigs. But I like chickens the best.”

“We do infact have many animals, both domesticated and wild. I have always, myself, favored the bees.” 

“Ouh? Mother says we will get bees next year so that we may have sweet honey for our bread. She says she will teach me to make mead with it then and we will sell this at the marketplace. I have heard some say that elves know how to tame bees with their voice. Is this true then, since you do like bees so much?”

“Ha! Indeed, some elves do know such little magics as to have the bees help them.” Legolas leaned in as though whispering to her a great and powerful secret. “Would you like me to tell you how such a thing is accomplished?”

“Ouh yes!” Aiofe clapped her hands, clearly excited to have something imparted to her by a true elfish prince! “Yes do please!”

“You must sing to them.” He promised her, nodding solemnly despite the doubtful look she gave him. “Sing sweetly and gently, and talk to them in earnest of the good work they do for you. Sing of sweet flowers and warm summer days. Sing to them in thanks of the gift they will give you. This I promise you, little Aiofe, will ensure their enthusiastic assistance in your endeavors.” He gazed up as a woman in red kirtles came over, putting her hands on the child's shoulders. 

“Forgive me. Is my daughter troubling you, sire?” 

“Not in the least madam. Indeed I have found her to be a most darling young thing.” Legolas stood and bowed to the child. “Do not forget what I said about the bees, winë.”

“I shall not!” she promised, scampering off with her mother for her appointed bedtime.

“Sometimes I do think it to be a great shame that we do not have children as the men do.” Another of his entourage, Uthulain of the fair eyes spoke, come over to ensure he was comfortable and finding his prince to be quite content. “If you will forgive me candor my prince, but you are quite young. You would not remember when once the glades were filled with the laughter and mischief of our young ones underfoot and giddy to be so. It was such as to make us all grateful that we live in a time of peace where a family would prove the greatest of joys.”

“And are these times so difficult and full of fear that a good family would find them unsuitable for the joy of children?” Legolas spoke, sure of course that this could not be the case. But the countenance of Uthulain was shadowed, and he looked as though perhaps he had overstepped some unspoken rule. “Forgive me but I do not know why you look so troubled.”

Uthulain shook his head. “It is not my place to speak on such things, my prince.”

“It is not as your prince but as your traveling companion that I do entreat you. What troubles your glad heart? I would not see you worried so on my account.”

“It Is not on your account and yet of your account that I do worry. And yet to my ability, there is none of my concerns which I may tell you. I can only ask that you bid me no more, my prince.”

Legolas found his lips squeezing tightly shut, but did not question Uthulain further. There were subjects upon which his father did not speak openly, and even fewer on which he would not speak with his only son. So this made it quite clear upon what matter his companion did not wish to bring up. 

The absence of his mother was a hole felt by all who knew her. Though many times the scouts had been sent, either to find her and ensure her safety or to locate her and rescue her, none had returned with even the most vague rumor of where she had gone. Thrnaduil had been so distraught that he even spoke to Galadriel on the matter, asking the lady of Lorien to grant him the favor of her foresight. 

She had indeed looked, but to no avil. None seemed to know what had become of the Queen of the Greenwood and the wife of it's lord. That alone was more troubling by far than any news of what might have befallen her. But without knowledge of where to look, they could only keep searching and keep hunting, and hope that the worst had not befallen their lady. Legolas strongly suspected that his father had permitted this visit in order to distract his son from the strange absence of his mother. 

Orcs had become all too frequent a sight in these parts, and it set everyone on edge. One could argue that any occurrence where orcs were sighted was too frequent, but when they seemed to prowl about any area for too long, there was the fear that a den was being made. Orcs and goblins alike had the foul habit of nesting like serpents, writhing around one another in some citadel of their own filth where they went to eat sleep and breed. To meet a cadre of the loathsome creatures wandering about, when their intentions were ones of pillage and destruction, was bad enough. But a den of them meant fouler purposes were brewing. Orcs did not gather lightly. Their hatred of one another was almost as great as their hatred of men and elves. And when they did come together in large numbers, it meant that something was brewing. That it would do so between the realms of Thranduil and Galadriel could mean nothing good, though the elves gave little consideration to the threat it would mean to the men of this valley.

For his part, Legolas did hope that these people would come to no harm, but it was not his place to question his fathers commands. 

They moved on come morning, greeted by the soft twittering of birds as the took flight from the fields of swaying grain. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples as the sun seemed to have taken it upon itself to rise lazily rather than begin it's work on time. This allowed for a rare, crisp morning with the dew still clinging to the leaves and spider webs looking as jeweled necklaces draped about the barn posts and trees. The horses kicked up, ready to be off and excited for the continuation of their journey. Elvish horses had a kinship with their people, a sense of peace and understanding that connected them to their moods and needs. And so as Legolas mounted, he could feel his stallion eager to be off. 

Aiofe was there at the hill above her families farm house, waving to the departing visitors with excitement in her eyes. Legolas returned the gesture and found his heart lightened by the young girl. He hoped to see her again if they happened to pass through this way again. They had far yet to go, for Rivendell lay on the other side of the Hithaeglir, and while the tails here were fair and fine, the great craggy passageways and misty coils while danced about the mountain peaks cold be treacherous. It filled Legolas with a sense of excitement! He had never been to mountains before, though he could see them in the distance from the treetops. Once, when he was young, his mother had let the scouts take him to Dale and he had seen the dwarven mountain of Erebor towering over it all. But that had been long ago, before the dragon came and the dwarves had become orphaned from the rocks. 

“Where shall we go through? Legolas asked of Uthulain as their caravan passed along the green fields with ease. 

“The High Pass is open to us during this favorable weather. But we must be cautious, especially during nightfall, for there are orcs within the mountains womb and have been since they took the great city of Moria from under the head of it's king. There they have dwelt for many years, scrounging and breeding and polluting it's once proud halls.” Uthulain sighed, shaking his head in sorrow. “I was there once, long ago, when the city was a thriving paradise with the dwarven folk clustered in throngs amid it's wide halls and chasms. They are craftsmen you see, and each home they call their own is a mine or a workshop at it's heart. Such treasures they made, such beautiful things. It is such a pity to know that their once glorious home is now overrun with orcs.”

“If there is such danger, why then do we not travel round it?” Legolas asked, keen to learn more about the world now that he was out and in it. 

“That would take many days, young prince. And while to one side lays Isengard where dwells Saurman the wise who has often been counted a friend to our kind, we would then be forced to wrap around and come all the way back along those same mountains, surely missing the celebration intended for Lady Arwen. To the North then, should we dare it, are the Grey Mountains, and beyond that the Northern Wastes. There too lies Mt. Gundabad, where Durin I awoke. That ancient and holy site has long since been overrun with orcs and goblins. Were that not enough, it is said that dragons still breed somewhere within their peaks. So no, dear prince Legolas, it is to my thinking that of all our roads, this one offers the least trouble for our intentions.”

“Such a pity. One day I would like to see dragons.” There was a laughter that then ripples through the dozen or so elves who were his companions, a sense of amusement at the young one who had such thoughts. Legolas looked about, feeling that strange sense of displacement that comes when there is something seemingly known to all others but not to ones own self. “I see I have said something foolish.” he flushed pink about the cheeks and the bridge of his nose and hid his face in shame.

“Not foolish perhaps, but certainly unwise. Forgive us, young lord. We mean no harm. But some here in this company have indeed seen dragons. And those who have hold no wish or desire to ever come into the sight of one again.”

“Have you seen one, Uthulain?”

“No I have not. And for my part I have no desire to. There are troubles enough in this world without the addition of fire breathing winged serpents to add to it. Orcs in hoards are by far easier to deal with.”

“Yes, and there are all together too many of them these days. I would nearly rather contend with but one dragon than so many swarms of the foul little beasts at every turn.” Helthuil the archer decided out loud.

“Than you may go to Erebor and see one up close for yourself. And should you survive the encounter, which I strongly doubt, you may then find the lost sons of Erebor and tell them they may return to their halls. But until such time, perhaps it would be to your great benefit not to speak thusly in the presence of veterans.” Uthulain warned him and nodded to the dour and recalling looks of those who had in ages past fought the great fire drakes. 

Helthuil quieted himself then and they headed ever onward. As the hours and days past they took their respites keenly, eating well and drinking around campfires, singing to one another and telling stories of the ages gone past. Legolas knew to listen well, for young as he was there was always much to learn from the words of those who had lived longer. He wondered at the beauty of the world around him and all it's unusual splendor, unfamiliar to him, but when they came to the start of the High Pass, he did not feel he could crane his neck back high enough to see the towering peaks looming above him in the blue sky.

“Hurt not your neck, Legolas. We will be within the passage soon enough and then you may avail yourself of it's craggy wonders.” Uthulain called to the others that they would check their supplies before heading into the pass the next morning. The mountain could be a difficult place even in fair weather, and it would not do to head in without being sure of their stocks. 

All night, Legolas stared at the path leading up. All night he was given to a frightening chill through his spine that made his finger tips numb and his sleep uneasy. Some sense told him that there were dangers within, both great and small, and in the morning no matter how seemingly cheery the others were to venture forth, he could not shake a sense of troubles yet to come. But still, he said nothing, worried that the others would find him cowardly. 

Up up and ever upward they continued, following the winding trails and rocky paths left behind from years of use. Once this had been a well traveled route through which traders passed, carrying their goods and creating a wider sense of community between the peoples of Middle Earth. Now though, it did not feel as though it would be well trod, for nothing seemed to exist to say that any had walked this path in many seasons. 

“I sense your unease.” His companion spoke to him one night as Legolas wrapped himself tightly with his cloak and milled about to avoid sleep. “These caverns hold dread things, Legolas. You are right to be wary. This is why we do not light campfires while we walk here. We must go swiftly and silently, which is why we do not sing nor make merry as we trod here.”

“There are more than orcs here, Uthulain. Though I know not what. I sense something within the depths here, something which lies sleeping, undisturbed. I know not what it might be, but I am given to a sense of fire and shadow dwelling at the edges of my mind.”

“Forgive me. I know not what to tell you, my young lord. There are many things that may be in this world that I have never seen. I am only one elf after all. But if it does dwell there, may it stay there, sleeping, and trouble us not at all.” 

For more days still they walked, archers about the high ground, ready and watching. Those who stood near him had their hands always then at the hilt of their blades. It was this that told Legolas that now he must be very cautious indeed, for they were in orc territory, and the danger was greater here than before. Legolas thought he could smell the scent of something most foul when the night air blew just right and it put him off his meal. 

“I swear that I have an odor in my nose that will not be put off.” He proclaimed and took out a bottle of oil.

“Nay, for as strong as your sense of smell is, orcs too can detect elvish scents. No flower grows here in these rocky terrains, and so no flower must be smelt.” Uthulain counseled him firmly to put the oil away. “We will soon be in Imladris, though I worry we are already some days later than we ought to be. We have been forced to move with precaution.”

“Why then is that?” Legolas queried as he watched an arched stiffen and duck down, looking towards the south. 

“I do not wish to trouble you...”

“It seems as though I shall be troubled one way or the other, so perhaps you should trouble me now.” 

Uthulain's lips thinned uncomfortably and he looked over to the way the archers were guarding. “It seems that there are in fact more of the foul goblins on this path than we anticipated. Many more. They have been following our trail for the last two days. We have used our knowledge and expertise to evade them and left no evidence of where we have passed our resting time, but none the less they are following.”

“Why have they not attacked then?” Legolas handled his sword now, wary that his question might be answered at any moment. 

“It may be that they do not know how many of us there are and hesitate to attack without knowing what forces they face. It may be that they are only a small part themselves, separated from their main forces and have not the numbers to rise.”

“And it may be that they have a few following us while others go back to bring more.” Ciridan warned, sneaking along the sides of the rocks. “It is felt that we should send a scout of our own to Rivendell so that they might return quickly to our aid.”

“Can we spare anyone in this risky time? They might pick him off before he returns and then we would be one less sword hand to us should they mount and attack.”

“And it may make no difference if they are mounting an assault.” Ciridan advised sagely, gathering himself up. “I am willing to take the risk if there is no other you would dare ask to go. I am fleet of foot and silent, which I do wish to be. I shall go and return before an orc can even stand to defend itself.”

Legolas knew that he held no authority here as a prince. His fathers word was law but that did not mean his was to be obeyed without question. He nudged Uthulain gently. “I ask your pardon, but we know not how many orcs have come upon us nor how many may yet be on their way. We are but thirteen, and while each of us may fell many, it only takes one with a good sword arm to make us twelve, then eleven, and on down the line.”

Uthulain regarded him with a nod. “I am in agreement. Go then, but I beg of you to be cautious with yourself, I would not loose you.”

Ciridan bowed swiftly and took off, carrying nothing but his bow and his sword. He would be moving with but one purpose, to arrive and Rivendell and return with reinforcements. He would nto stop until his errand had been completed. 

“He will be alright, will he not?” Legolas asked, hoping he had offered the right advice. 

“Ciridan is quick and clever. He will return.” The captain of their ground swore, though he stood and looked unsure as their friend vanished into the mountain said. “We should discuss what should happen should things come to the worst.”

“We will fight, of course. What other discussion is there to be had?” 

“The discussion of what is wisest for you to do, young Legolas. Should we be attacked, it is our duty and privilege to cover your escape. We will fight them off and beat them if we can, but if we begin to fall, you will follow Ciridan's path and run for Rivendell fast as your legs may carry you.” Uthulain insisted, despite the young elf shaking his head.

“I am eighty and three. I may not be an adult but I am not a child any longer. If my friends and companions stay to fight, so then shall I. It is my wife.”

“And it is I who tells you that it is not your wishes which I must hold paramount. It is those of Thranduil, king of Eryn Galen. And when I am bid protect his son against all dangers, it is that deed which I must fulfill. If you stay and things go badly, who then will return to your father and offer him comfort in these troubled times when his heart is heavy with worry for your mother?” The older elf shook his head. “This is not a fear that you are not ready, nor that you are not capable. I know you are. Did you not train with the guards since you were still but a youth? Did you not scour the forests with the rangers and seek to know every wooded glen and creek bed as you slept under the stars with scouts? No my dear Legolas, you are a well taught young elf. But you are still under my protection until you come of age. And for now, my most sacred duty is to ensure your survival.” He clasped the blond young one on the shoulders and looked into his eyes with bright green worry. “Please. Promise me you shall flee if we are attacked and begin to fall. Promise me this Legolas.”

“Though it stick in my belly like bad fish, I do promise. I will fight while I can, but if you look to me and tell me I must run, I shall run.” 

“Let us hope that this discussion is a moot point and that either we are sufficiently well prepared before they come.” Uthulain took his post as the guards changed for the night and assigned a swordsman to stay near to Legolas as he tried to take a few hours of sleep before they moved. They had found a small cave where they could hide overnight, hoping that the goblin scouts would think they had set up camp somewhere and be searching for their tents instead. Elves, when they chose to and sometimes when they simply decided to,could avoid leaving behind a trail in mud, snow, dirt or grass. Their cloaks could mimic their surroundings, allowing them to blend in easily with the rocks and trees. Being silvian, they were best suited to dwelling in the forest but they were not inept at the crags and rocks here. Everyone was hoping, at least to some extent, that the orcs would not know this or would have none in their number with experience tracking their kind. 

The night passed and they got to moving as they sky began to turn a navy blue. Orcs did not like moving in the day light, though they could if pressed into it. So it was up to the elves to ensure they could cover that distance quickly. The entourage was on high alert and Legolas could sense itchy tigger fingers all around him. “Uthulain, if the orcs were to capture us...”

“Do not ask me to answer that, sweet young Legolas. I beg of you do not press me. For one, I can not answer it. I have never been a 'guest' or orcs nor do I wish to be for anything. Two, I know no one who has survived their hosts attentions to tell the tale. And third, if I did, I would not for anything ask them to recount such horrors for any reason.” 

“I seem to ask many questions which no one is willing to answer.” He did not mean to sound contrary, but it could indeed be quite frustrating to feel as though he were the only member of this party who did not know and therefor did not feel prepared for what might await them ahead. Nothing made the young feel their lack of experience quite so much as being unprepared at any given time. 

“Legola-.” Ulthulain paused and his eyes grew wide. “Get down. Now!” 

In an instant it was as if there were no elves at all along the path. They moved to blend into their surroundings, only the most trained and observant of eyes would be capable of detecting them. It was well done too, for a moment later, four orcs came skulking along the pathway sniffing with their pig like up turned noses and hissing to one another.

“Elves.” One growled, looking about with a row of crooked and rotting teeth. “I know I smell them, I am sure that I do.”

“Or maybe your sniffer is still remembering those ones we caught last month.” Another snorted, chuckling in some fondly cruel memory. “Was a bit a fun wasn't it? Especially the pretty female they had with them.”

Legolas's ears pricked and he leaned forward only to be jerked back by one the the others closest to him. Now was not the time to get curious and start evesdropping.

“Mighta been more fun if they hadn't made us send the survivors to Gundabad. We don't get much elf flesh along this path, not like we used ta in the good old days.” 

“Comes with the territory. If you start fishin in the same place, sooner or later the bastards take notice and move their grounds. We ought ta slack off for a few years, let them get comfortable again.” A big one scratched it's belly, snorting up hard before spitting on the ground. “We might start ta get treats more often.”

“I'm telling ya, there are elves here, somewhere.” He sniffed the air, sure he was onto something as the greenish grey sickness of his skin glistened with sweat. “I know it! I smell it! My nose is never wrong.”

“What about the time you swore there weren't no trolls in the lower tunnels and we came across five big whomping untamed ones. Where was your oh so brilliant and knowing nose then, eh?” 

One of the archers held up a hand when he was sure the orcs were firmly turned away before signing how many he saw in the distance. This had to be a preliminary group. There were surely more not far behind, skulking about and waiting to see if there was chopping work to be done. 

Legolas watched with fascination. He did not fear the orcs, but he was not so foolish as to feel as though he should do anything but what he had been told. Something glinted out of the corner of his eye and he gasped, Uthulain hissing at him to keep quiet. He smacked the captians shoulder and pointed. 

In the middle of what had been their encampment lay a copper pot that someone had forgotten to grab and hide.

Uthulain's eyes widened as a orc came upon it.

“Wot's this?” It pulled the cookware up from the dirt, growling as sniffed it. “Still warm, and polished.” it growled and the other creatures seemed to be encouraged by this. “Spread out!” He snarled, teeth glinting yellow in the moonlight. “They are still close. Probably hiding in the rocks.” He pointed out, telling them where to go.”

Uthulain moved in front of Legolas, sword at the ready, their cloaks protecting them from sight...for now. “If I say run, you must run as fast as your feet can carry you.”

“I will not let you risk your life...”

“My life is mine to risk in service of you and your father, my prince. Do not let this be in vain.” He warned as the great clawed feet of the searchers trod right by their hiding place. 

The smell was rancid as old flesh and Legolas curled before it, saying nothing, forced to only watch. He could not play the role of the coward and run from battle no matter what Uthulain said! He would not let others fall for his sake! He readied his bow, knowing full well that the captain could not shush him with the enemy this close. He had no wish in him to be foolish, but nor could he forgive himself for running from battle. 

“They're here somewhere. I know it. Rivendell is but a few days travel from here. And no men are fools enough to cross by this road less in desperate need.” The orc licked it's chops, hissing angrily. Orcs hated elves, down to the very core of whatever pit served as a soul. They loathed them, the light of the Miar which dwelt within every elf was the bane of their existence. Perhaps it was jealousy. Perhaps they hated the elves most for their beauty, something which they could never possess. But it made no difference. They would take great pleasure in the rending of limbs and the breaking of bones.

The orcs wandered through the site, sniffing and bellowing to one another. As they passed through, Uthulain took hold of Legolas and they snuck through the rocky outcroppings, catching up with the others. “We must move quickly! No more resting until we are safe within the bounds of Imladris.”

“There are more ahead, surely guarding the quest route.” 

“Then we will take a longer one.” Uthulain pointed up. “There is a lower route where we might slip past unnoticed now they they are concentrating their forces here. But we must move quickly.”

“If we change our route, and Ciridan returns, it will take them longer to find us and come to our aid, should we need it.” Another elf reminded him cautiously. 

“I am afraid we can not afford to wait, not with the young prince within our charge.”

“The young prince with rather his people not risk their lives needlessly.” Legolas said, determined not to let this go by unchallenged. “We could remove these orcs as a challenge. If they are here to find us, then the longer it takes for them to return, the more likely it is that we will prolong more troops form coming this way. We might do it swiftly and silently and use the opportunity to sneak past the ones who lie in wait before us.”

Uthulain looked at the youth and nodded. “That is wise council. Hethlain, Lothie. I trust the two of you to dispatch them. Eulith, scout out ahead of us and see if there are any paths by which we might move past the hoards before us. Let us know how many we must avoid. Legolas...” He smiled at the prince. “Well done. Keep your sword and wits about you.”  
“That I shall do.”

Hethlain and Lothie were gone and back before half a candlemark had passed, cleaning their blades neatly. Not a sound had risen in the air to call other to alarm and they looked contented with their grim work, even as the cleaned black blood from their fine weapons. 

A candlemark passed and Eulith did not return.

Another candlemark and still there was no sign of the scout. 

“ELVISH SCUM!” Cried a foul voice on the win. “Come out, or we shall slit this pretty ones throat!

There came a roaring laughter and Legolas managed to peer round before he was pulled back. Eulith stood there, bound by crude and jagged ropes that bit past her clothing, little patches of blood staining her shirt. Her face was resolute, though one black eye shone out and it was clear she had been handled most roughly. A massive orc had a hand on her arm, dragging her along as she fought them valiantly. 

“We know you are near! We know you travel to Rivendell! These are our mountains now, pointy ears! And you'll pay a hefty toll for your arrogance!” He snarled and pulled a crooked blade from his belt, placing the edge at her throat. 

“I told you, I came on my own to visit my cousin in Bree!” She insisted loudly, letting them know that she was doing all she could to protect their secrecy. 

“We must save her!” 

“She speaks as she does to keep you protected.” Uthulain silenced him again. “If you seem to do something foolish I will bind and gag you my prince!”

“We can not leave her to their mercies!”

“HUSH!” 

“I hear whispering!” The big one cackled. “Foul little elves creeping about! Come out! Come now or I'll split her face open!” Her drew the blade up and poor Eulith screamed as it cut through her cheek. 

Legolas could stand this no longer! He jumped from the rocks, taking aim and firing a clean shot right through the orc's hand. The damned thing howled and roared, pointing at him as three dozen or more came from all angles, ready for blood! 

“To arms!” Uthulain cried out, pulling a twin blade from his sheath and readying himself to cut. Without hesitation he spun easily, cutting into the weak armor of an attacker and removing his head from his neck cleanly. Another died with his next swing, and another as he took the blade and thrust it through their breast plate and into the heart, yanking it out as a spray of thick oily blood burst out in a gyser. 

Legolas had never been in battle before, but he had trained. He knew better than to be a spectator when he still had arrows to fire and a blade to swing for himself! He stood back with the other three archers, taking aim and removing threats as he could. But he was still untried, unused to the cruel reality of removing ones enemy permanently from the field of battle. Still, his aim was true, and not one arrow was wasted as it found the chink in each suit and the open spot in the joints. He wounded them greatly, his heart beating in his throat, his eyes shooting about, searching for the next target. A sense of fear made his breath short, his muscles tense as he gripped the bow so tightly that his palms sweated! But there were more of them by far, they seemed to pour from the rocks themselves, the onslaught taking the lives of two before his very eyes! There was no time for fear or sorrow, no time to allow himself a glimpse at their fallen forms. Between one breath and the next their light was snuffed out and still the orcs kept coming.

“Lgeolas!” Uthulain yelled to him. “You must run!” 

“It is too late!” Another cried out! “We are surrounded!” 

It was a horrible truth. They could only watch as more came through the crack and crevices like evil birthed from an unholy womb. The crawled over one another in their eagerness to destroy that which provoked such rage in them. Legolas could see the vile yellow of their eyes, the joyful fury and feel the stink of their breath!

The pounding of hoofbeats was the heraldry of hope. 

Arrows fell in a volley of silver as they caught the moonlight, striking down orcs by the throng. A charging cry echoed in the night and elves draped in the colors of spring and autumn came from nowhere, bringing their numbers to the fight! Legolas recognized the heraldry of Lothlorien and Imladris among them and felt a sense of wonder as a familiar golden blond head led the cavalry. 

~Haldir.~ 

If he had been nervous before, when his life had been threatened by the beasts made from Morgoth, it was nothing compared to the nervousness in his belly at the mere glimpse of that man's face. He sucked in air as though he could barely breath eyes widened as he tried to find his wits. 

“Prince!”

Legolas turned in time to stick his sword into the belly of a orc with it's arms raised to bring it's blade down upon his head. Fear shot through his mind and he looked up at the pointed teeth and heard the death rattle of a beast on his blade. He felt a spur of pity for the creature, but it did not last, he could not afford to let it linger in his mind. He moved to take the next one from this world and the battle refreshed itself.

The orcs had expected an easy prey against their numbers. Now, with the elves of Rivendell clearly alerted to their presence, they stood no chance against their might. Those towards the back of the encroaching hoard fled, and the next line turned and followed them, for they were only brave when they could be be kept in a group where their numbers were near insurmountable. They vanished nearly as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind the dead, the dying, and those injured so badly that they were now merely waiting for one last blow to finish them off. 

Horses ran past, ensuring the orcs were run off thoroughly. Some elves dismounted and climbed the rocks, for there was no such thing as too many arrows through an orcs hide. Others came to see if anything could be done for the three elves who had been injured in the fight. One lay dead on the ground and his fellows came forward to cover him with his cloak and prepare a liter to carry him down to Rivendell. Legolas coughed and jumped down, looking around to find Uthulain, and perhaps to see if he could spy Haldir once more. Eulith was sitting on a rock, her cheek being tended to as she turned away, her bottom lip stiffened as she was tended to with salves and potent. 

“Is it awful? It hurts very little any more but I fear a deep scar.”

“It will scar, but we shall treat it, and it shall neither be large or deep. Fear not dear girl. You took a wound in the heat of battle, your companion will honor you for it.”

Legolas lip pouted out as he looked at her. He now understood why Uthlain had wished him to remain silent, to stay hidden, but how could he? His actions had saved her life, but indeed it had cost another. Where was the rightness in that? The triumphant battle the heros won? Wasn't there supposed to be some victory won from the day? 

“My prince.” Uthulain stood by his, his eyes cast with ferocity on Legolas's worried face. “I told you should we be attacked to run. Your actions were rash and most unwise! You put us all at risk! You put yourself at risk! Do you think your father would have been greatful for your actions had we returned without you? Do you think he would have thanked you for this?”

“I had to do something. She was entrusted to protect me. How could I do less for her?”

“Noble words but you are still very much a young elf. It is not the responsibility of...of children to protect their elders!” He knelt down and held him by the shoulders, giving him a firm shake. “We are the elders, Legolas. You will be a grown elf soon enough but here and now, you can not put yourself and others at risk. Eulith knows the duties of being a scout in the marchwarden patrols. She knows the risks, she took the oath to defend and protect the house of Thranduil. When she was captured, she stood and kept her vow to protect you even at the cost of her own life.”

“But she lives.”

“That she does, and you do. And I am greatful for both. But you can NOT take these actions without consideration!”

“He did well.”

Legolas felt his heart drop down into his stomach. Was Haldir truly so tall or was it merely how small he felt by comparison. The marchwarden of Lothlorien stood next to them, bowing as Uthulain greeted him. 

“He behaved foolishly.” Uthulain corrected firmly. “Bravely, but foolishly.”

“Perhaps he did. But battle was fast becoming inevitable. You are lucky to have evaded them as long as you did. Lucky and craft, but then that always described you, Uthulain. And Thranduil should be greatful to have such a rare elf in his service.” Haldir looked down to Legolas with a gentle smile. “Are we destined to always meet when there are orcs about, my young prince?”

“I hope not good sir, for I fear I am not good enough with a sword to carry a conversation between blows.” He did not know where the quip had come from! He did not feel clever enough by far to say something so glib when he felt for sure he might pass out if Haldir smiled at him again. The commanding elf laughed grandly and Legolas swallowed. 

“Than clearly you will need more practice!” He clapped Legolas on the shoulder before turning back to Uthulain. Apparently they had gotten a stroke of luck. Elrond had become concerned when they did not arrive on schedule and sent his own people to scout the pass looking for them. Haldir had come to gather news and see if there had been any luck when Ciridan had arrived, allowing them to rush quickly to their aid. It had saved lives to be sure...

Legolas looked as the elder elf turned his head too and fro, speaking to a fellow commander, surveying the damage, tossing his blond locks about. 

He could not see the little silver clasp no matter how he looked.


	3. Chapter 3

“Legolas! Gi nathlam hí!” 

He opened his arms to Arwen, letting her embrace him deeply. Thought it had been many years since they last laid eyes on one another, they were no less familiar. Her hair still shone like polished amber and her cheeks were as fresh and ruddy as they were all those years ago when they caused such mischief together. Elvish friendships were well known for being long lasting things. After all, when one had near immortality to enjoy, what did distance or time matter? They could be parted for ten years or a thousand. It was all the same to them. Legolas looked upon her as he would a long lost sister, her smile warming him from the fearful experience he had undergone on their travel. 

“We worried for you, my friend. My father began to send out scouts when you did not come over the mountain days ago. We feared the worst!” Arwen stressed, her hands clasped to his shoulders in sincere concern, checking him over to see if sword of claw had maimed her friend. 

“The worst very nearly became of us, dear Lady.” Uthulain informed her with a strict look in Legolas's direction. “Though for valor and bravery I can not fault my dear charge. He is a credit to his fore-bearers and a proud youth. But this is his folly as much as it is his virtue. His actions were irrevocably ill advised and while I laud your courage, I will be reporting to your father the manner in which you directly disobeyed me.”

Legolas felt his ears twitch back and he tried not to look so shamefaced before Arwen. She was becoming an adult this summer and now he felt even more a child to be brought to task before her in such a way. He kept his countenance well and lifted his head, trying not to appear too prideful else his lend credence to Uthulain's claim. “I may have been brash, and for that I wish to offer my apology...”

“Give it to Eulith. She will spend the rest of the summer laid up over her injuries and as such, we can not return to Eryn Galen without her.” Uthulain proclaimed before realizing that Arwen was staring at him and recovering quickly from his trespass. “Forgive me, my Lady. We are most grateful for the assistance of your guard and the scouts from Lothlorien. Your father is owed every thanks and we...”

“Please, do not feel you must press yourself unduly. You have had an exhausting journey with an frightful end. But you are safe within Rivendell's boarders and none can harm you here. You are our most welcomed guests for however long you need remain.” She clasped his hands and bowed her head in a formal greeting. “Please, is your companion Eulith injured? I have some skill in healing work and I would see her if she has been harmed.”

“An orc blade cut through her upper leg, slicing deep into the muscle. And she was cut again on her back, nearly too deep to help. But she has a stout heart and a sense of courage no matter the unfortunate circumstance. When we found her, she had felled five of the brutes despite her injuries. She is resting now in your father's healing rooms.” Uthulain turned to the blond elf with sincere displeasure in his expression. “I would have you visit her, my Prince, and give her your most sincere and kindest condolences.”

Legolas felt like a fool. But he did not quite know why. Was this not how the brave and valiant hero's behaved? Did they not strike out against the darkness for the sake of a friend or companion? What should he have done? Was Uthulain suggesting that he could have allowed Eulith to die in that foul orc's grasp? He had been too well bred to voice such a complaint out loud and risk embarrassing himself by talking so poorly in front of his elders. Instead, he put his hands behind his back and straightened his posture. “Should I bring her something to aid her?” he asked and Uthulain nodded. 

“I can make a salve which will aid in her healing.” Arwen offered. “It will take but a short time, it shall be ready by tomorrow morning.”

“And Legolas will bring it to her then. But if I may borrow him for but a moment, Lady Arwen, he will be visiting her now.” The captained elf turned, making it clear that Legolas was meant to follow him. They would be here all summer, and he would be given plenty of time to speak with his dear friend. Legolas rushed over, turning his head over his shoulder to whisper an apology before his friend shrugged with a smile. 

Rivendell in the summer was among the most pleasant and magnificent of places one could find themselves in. Stationed by the mountainside, many of it's homes built into the cliffside itself, there was waterfalls that dropped right next to windows and a great river that cut through the entire valley, creating the permanent scent of fresh running water and greenery everywhere one turned. Legolas loved his woodland home, but the charm and beauty of Imladris was undeniable. It was no wonder that so many found it to be among the most pleasant and refreshing of the elvish kingdoms. He found himself wondering if perhaps, one day, he might be able to visit Lothlorien and walk among the twilight branches.

He wondered if someone might be willing to play guide to him. His particular considerations on who he would prefer were enough to make the young elf turn peach about his cheeks as they continued through the glade. Legolas could not help but peer about, trying to see if Haldir was hanging around for the celebration yet to come. 

As they cam around the center of town, near the great fountain, he caught sight of the silvery haired fellow leaning up against a wall, speaking closely to another elf he did not know. Haldir was towering over the sitting elf, one arm reaching forward to swipe a fallen leaf from his friends hair. The handsome elf said something to him, and his friend laughed, covering his mouth to hide the snickering. 

Legolas barely noticed the sitting one. His eyes were utterly focused on Haldir's beautiful smile. 

Eulith was, in all truth, badly injured, but not so poor as to keep her from having a cup of wine along with the medicinal teas that the healers in Rivendell were giving her to drink. One of them complained that she might be more prone to actually finishing the medicine if they just brewed a wine from it instead. Eulith was emphatically attracted to the idea, though she insisted that she would rather not wait so long in order to get well again. It was truly something to hear an aggravated healer curse as she walked away, lamenting the stubborn nature of scouts and adventurers. Eulith laughed, wincing sharply as it caused her ribs to ache. When she saw her captain and the young prince enter, she started to sit up, her her injury would not allow for it. “Forgive me captain. Seems I am unable to salute you properly.”

“No forgiveness need be given. I am sure you will make up for it again when you are able.” Uthulain tapped Legolas's shoulder and nudged him forward. “Our Prince was very concerned over your state, and wanted to ensure that you were well, or would be again.”

Her merry eyes met his and she bowed her head. “I will be well again. Thank you for your gracious concern, my Prince.”

Legolas could see blood on her bandages and felt a little sick to his stomach. “I...I am worried. Concerned for you. They say orcs put poison on their blades...”

“Which, thanks to the quick action of the healers, we were able to subdue. I am well. Or I shall be in a few weeks time. You need not trouble yourself over me dear Prince.” 

“The Lady Arwen is making you a salve for your injuries.” He proclaimed, unsure of what else to say to her. “I...I shall offer her all the assistance she requires if she will permit me!”

Eulith smiled genuinely and again thanked him, but it was clear that between wine and exhaustion she was in need of sleep to truly heal. The caretakers shuffled them out back into the streets as they returned to watch over her while she was tired enough not to be too much of a problem. 

“Do you understand why I was given charge over you, my Prince?” 

Legolas hesitated, sensing a trap in the question. “Because you are senior captain in my father's personal scouts. Because you have survived many incursions and he trusts you to keep me safe.”

“That is true. But I can not protect you if you do not LISTEN to my words and my direction.” His voice was controlled, but it was clear that there was fury in his mind. “You are a brave youth, and there is honor in your actions. But it is not only your life which is at risk. I would step before an orc's blade to protect you, my Prince. It is my duty and privilege. But not at the cost of a dozen lives which might be saved but for a little clever planning!” 

Elves did not raise their voice to their children. But while Legolas was still young, he was fast approaching the end of his childhood years. “What...what was I to do? Leave you all there? To the orcs?”

“Yes! You are the son of Thranduil. The prince of the woodland realm. And your mother is...” he paused, unwilling to push that far. “Your mothers location is as such unknown. It would be folly to allow you to come to harm. For your fathers sake.” Uthulain placed his hands on the youth's shoulders. “If Eulith were to die, I would be sad for her. But I trust her to know her work and her capability. If any of my companions were to pass, I would ache for their loss and mourn them. But if you were to die? I would be heartbroken. Not only because you are the son of the King of the Woodland Realm. But how many elvish youths do you see in these times?” Uthulain seemed to be keeping something back as he lowered his eyes. “To lose an adult is awful. To lose a child is anathema. Not one elf in a thousand would rather a child be sacrificed to save their own skin.”

Legolas could not quite bring himself to let go of this rancor in his belly. “I can not be a child forever, Uthulain.”

“No. But let yourself remain one for but a bit longer. The danger of Middle Earth should not be the province of the young. Give yourself the opportunity to learn and grow. And next time, if I tell you to run, you had damn well best run for your life.” 

Uthulain left him there to contemplate these words, sitting in the noon day son and feeling chastised as a pup by an old dog. He stood there, fists balled up, nose quite out of joint as he thought on what he should do next, and how to deal with this rough and unwieldy anger dwelling in his heart and making his gut feel warm.

“It was a trap.”

He jumped and rounded, the flush on his face changing to a dark red as Haldir stood a head above him. “I...I am...sorry.”

“Do not be. All life is a lesson. If you are never wrong you will never learn anything worth while.” Haldir smiled down at him with a kindly expression on his glorious face. “Your captain was setting up a trap. He sent Eulith ahead to bring the orcs to where he could decide on how to engage. He had the high ground and the foul creatures did not know exactly where you all were. Hethlain and Lothie were going to scout out around behind them and confuse them by firing from behind, keeping them unaware of the exact concentration of the group. He wanted you to run because this was a gambit. He knew that Rivendell had to have sent out scouts by now, but he could not count on us finding the caravan in time. So he chose to distance you, knowing we would not stop searching if we failed to find you among the bodies.”

“Bodies...” Legolas started, then blinked, the reality of the situation coming to the forefront of his brain. “They...they would have...wouldn't they?”

“I have fought alongside Uthulain before. I have no doubt he would have.” Haldir touched Legolas's shoulder. “Your actions were brave, but he was right to call them unwise.”

“I had to do something.”

“Yes you did. And the right action would have been to obey your superior. Uthulain has seen combat many times. His tactics have saved lives when all others felt sure they were doomed.” Haldir informed him strictly. “Have you seen combat before yesterday eve?”

He bristled. “I...saw combat. Years ago.”

“Ah yes. The three mischievous little elf misadventure.” He chuckled with a warmth in his belly and shook his head. “If I had but enough strands of hair to count the amount of trouble I had gotten into in my youth. And when you three little ones had got yourself into danger, did you find it best to split up or stick together?”

“We stuck together of course! We stood more of a chance in a group!” He insisted, feeling suddenly quite confident in his justification for staying with his entourage.

“Yes. Because at the time, you were all children. One child alone would be an easy meal for an orc. But now, a child among adults, the orcs would not have thought to look for you until long after they were done with the others. Even if Uthulain's plan had failed, you would have been safely away, giving us time to find you first.” he continued.

Something still rankled about, but Legolas was having trouble figuring out exactly how to word it, how to explain himself without sounding like a whining child in front of someone who made him feel queasy and warm whenever they were in the same space. He knew he was pouting but could not quite stop himself from doing it. “I...I don't...”

Haldir sighed. “I was headstrong once. Still am according to some.” he glanced back at the elf he had been talking to. “And I suspect that your training has been limited to what your father would permit.”

He had never really considered it before, but Thranduil had always been quite tight with the reins on what he would permit his son to do. He was allowed to train with the bow and blade. He had been permitted to traverse the woods in the company of the scouts. But even as a child he had known that they would always stop when they would go too far from the heart of Eryn Galen. They would not take him to the place where the orcs had nearly had him as a child. And they would not take him to the northwest part of the forest. They limited what he was exposed to, either from the desire to protect a child or want of keeping Thranduil's heir safe. 

“Ahha. So then, what we have here is a young elf in need of a more precise and extensive training than what he has been offered.” Haldir rubbed his chin and considered. “May I then assume that, as we are not in your fathers kingdom, if I were to engage you in battle tactics and training befitting an elf of experience, you would not be tempted to report this to your father?”

His heart began to beat faster. “I...I would be honored! I have read epics of your exploits! I...I have heard bards speak of your deeds during many trials and the olden days.” 

“Huh. Bards...exaggerate things. They stretch and bend the truth, although rarely do they break it.”

“I do not understand.” Legolas said, feeling quite foolish.

“It means that while epic tales may make for good entertainment, the harsh reality of a war is something that was not meant for stories to tell young elves. Still, we all often learn things younger than we should. If it is your wish, young Legolas, to learn how to do battle, I will grant you both my time and my expertise in hopes that it will teach you a better lesson.” 

He thought he felt a bit faint. Was it the heat of the summer sun? “I...I would be honored! I will do all that I can to ensure you are not disappointed nor your time wasted!”

“Well you are eager enough. Now off. Find a better mood and we shall speak on the morrow.” Haldir could not help but laugh as he watched the young elf go, clearly ready to tell his friend that he would be training during the summer months. He shook his head and yelped sharply when a hand caressed the fine leathers of his backside and squeezed the in a tight and insistent grip! 

“One would thought you had handed him jewels of a dragon hoard.” The elvish man smirked and kissed his cheek plainly, tucking the daring hand into Haldir's. 

“He is young. He was raised on stories of my youth. Perhaps it will teach him to listen to his elders if he has one teaching him.” Haldir smiled at Glorfindel, touching their foreheads together in a sweet display of affection. 

“Are you elder now?” He asked with a stunned expression. “By the stars! What does that make me?!”

“Hush you wicked thing!” He chastised and they walked off together for their private rooms, eager to spend many hours on one another's tender and intimate affection. Haldir brushed back Glorifindel blond hairs, breathing in the sweet scent of him as they retreated, looking forward to this moment. His laughter was like a cool breeze on a warm day, and Haldir felt his heart lightened by his presence and they hung an hourglass outside the entryway.

Doors were not something largely used in Imladris. The summers could become unbearably hot and this allowed for them to maintain a healthy breeze through the buildings. During winter, heavy thick curtains were hung to limit the chill and large braziers were lit to keep a room warm. Not to mention the pleasurable company of another to keep one content during the chilly months. 

In order to maintain a sense of general privacy, an hourglass was left outside so that any approaching and unexpected guest would know that the 'time was being well spent' and leave before they interrupted two or more people in a loving embrace. 

It was not chilly now. But that did not stop Haldir from helping to undo the beautiful fabrics and flowing layers of their clothing, leaving them discarded on the floor as they pressed one another to the bed. The covers seemed to embrace them as their bodies touched. Glorfindel opened the blessing his thighs and allowed Haldir to place himself between them. He traced the bridge of his lovers nose, admiring the way it defined his face before leaning forward to bring him into a hungry kiss.

“I miss it when we are parted.” Haldir groaned into his ear, flicking his tongue along the outer rim and smiling as he tangled his fingers in the golden blond hair. 

“Do you mean when we must leave the bed and no longer be wrapped up in one another like candied floss?” He teased with a coquettish leer. “Or when you must travel and behave as the marchwarden and I must sleep long and frustrating nights without your company and...press.” He lifted his hips and brushed their cock together in a longing way. 

“Both. Were that I were not so honored I would dare say I never again would rise from this bed. I would only rise in it.” He teased and began to kiss down the chest, lapping at the well formed pectorals. A low croon answered his affections and he watched the bold and celebrated elf turn to soft glances and a heavy breath. 

“Rise within me.” Glorfindel pleaded and traced patterns down his back. “Do so now.”

“I shall when you are ready.” Haldir insisted, his hands sliding down his lovers thighs and he parted them wide, bowing down to move his fingers between the perfect shape of Glorfindel's ass cheeks. The sweet moan that echoed through the room. Was met with a renewed push to enter, and Haldir let his fingers open the whorled hole with enthusiastic patience. He added sweet oils to his work, keeping the tight heat of his partners body wet and pliant for more delightful exchanges.

Gentle prods and lingering kisses kept them busy for what seemed like ages. No voice disturbed them beyond their own little cries. Glorfindel was no slouch by any means and as Haldir opened his body, he took the marchwarden's prick into his lips and began to suckle it with devious skill. A hand at the base and his lips pursed at the top, he moved in rhythm, listening to dear sweet Haldir groan and grind up eagerly. He took down much of it, but left the last few lengths unswallowed so as to prod the man to take him hard when the time came. 

Haldir refused to rush their moments, but that did not mean he did not feel the burning need inside his own body. “Fie. Very well you arching cat.” he turned and smiled at the eager Glrofindel mewled and turned over, tucking pillows under his waist so as to have a comfortable cushion. He opened himself with a hand, letting the bright pink hole shine invitingly. “You hot blooded creature of intrigue.” 

“If I did not know better I would swear you flirt with me.” He had no shame when he was deep within his desire to love and be loved. Glorfindel batted his eyelashes at he looked up and pushed his hips back. “Come in to me, Haldir. Please. Come into me and let us enjoy one another.”

Haldir readied his cock and pushed it up against the ring of muscles. There was a tightness that did not wish to be pried, but pry he did. Slowly and with determination, Haldir won his way through, watching the low groan of the elf who had slain a Balrog grow to a tense and happy pitch. “Glorfindel!” He cried out, beginning a slow pace of drawing his cock in and out. 

“Haya! Yes! Dear Haldir! Sweet Haldir!” 

This was the response that drove him to quicken his pace, using his stamina to drive the golden blond elf lord into the bed. Haldir grit his teeth and rubbed his hips, sharing this pleasure between them like a rare treat. Through every naughty push and rough grating thrust, Haldir watched, admiring the way that scarred back arched and bent, finding the positions which would brush the rigid prick against his prostate. Haldir sought it out with single minded determination and adored it when at lash he push up on his goal, Glorfindel's large gray eyes widening at this. 

“YES! Do it there! Push me deep, Haldir!”

“Yes! Sweet Glorfindel! Darling...haaaugh!” Haldir brought himself up to the balls, feeling them bare down, the final bursting heat connecting between them like a bolt of lightning. As the last spasm of pleasure made them soar, they road as equals on the resplendent high before slumping down into bed, petting each other's bodies.

~~~

Legolas awoke early. It was closer to the truth for one to say he hadn't actually slept all that much. His excitement boiled over as he realized what was coming. He would be training with Haldir! The very thought made him feel as though his face were far too warm and his heart beat a tattoo within his chest. He was resolve to be calm about this, but that did not stop him from dressing in his best leathers and strapping all of his gear to him. He headed out for the day, skipping the offered breakfast, running for the clearing where Haldir had sent word they would meet. 

He could see the blond haired marchwarden waiting for him. He almost tripped as his foot caught in a gopher hole and managed to spare himself that humiliation by catching the fall with Haldir's back turned. He arrived breathless and red faced, smiling and gazing upon his tutors visage with clear admiration.

Haldir raised a fine eyebrow and peered at him, head tilting from one side to the other. “You are far overburdened, young Legolas.” 

“I...thought I ought to be prepared?” 

“Prepared yes, but the more you take with you, the more reliant you are upon it. You must become more clever in your survival instincts. You must look at the world around you for the potential it holds.” he gestured to the multiple weapons. “Do you know how to use all of those?”

“I...I have training with them.”

“But do you know how to use them well?” He repeated. His voice was level, s if he were but a teaching asking sincere questions of a student. When he could see that the young man was struggling with embarrassment, Haldir pulled back a bit. “Which ones do you enjoy using the most?”

“The bow.” Legolas answered without hesitation. “And I am fairly competent with my blades.”

“It is no bad thing to have some level of competence with many weapons. But when selecting what you take with you, choose the ones with which you are most proficient. Become an expert with them. Become a master. Practice with others when you may, but do not overburden yourself with them when they will serve you but little.” He helped remove the smaller daggers and such before taking a second look at the young man. “You are wearing your best leathers. New leathers.”

“...yes.” Legolas answered with sheepish regret.

“Those are well and good when you intend to attend a function or you mean to represent your people during a political meeting. But new leathers are stiff leathers. They limit your movement and your ability. Go. Change into old leathers, something well worn that lets your skin breath.”

Legolas, still eager to please, rushed back to his guest rooms, throwing on a different set of traveling leathers that were by now quite comfortable to move in. He caught sight of himself in a mirror and frowned, feeling quite drab and plain to the eyes. But...if this is what Haldir said he ought the wear... 

The elf was still there when he returned. Haldir gave him another glance and nodded with appreciation. “Much better by far. Now, let us start with a simple question. You must choose three things which you can take with you into the wilderness. Choose wisely and cautiously, for you must survive many nights based solely upon what you bring.”

Legolas froze up. What should he choose? “Uhm...a tent?”

“A tent. I see. And why is going to carry the tent for you? Will you lug the entire thing all over the woods, slowing your progress and making your path known to others every time you set up camp?”

He went pink again. “Ah...a...a watering canteen?”

 

“Perhaps. Another item?”

A little hope shone through and he took a deep breath. “Maybe...food?”

“Food would seem obvious. But bare in mind that the more you take, the more you will be weighted down. Again, think of what you need vs what you can find as you travel.”

“Oh. I...uhm...” He was beginning to feel quite silly and inept. It was like a riddle, but he couldn't figure out the trick! 

Haldir let him stew for a time before he chuckled to himself. “Young prince, there is no correct answer.”

“But...but then what answer should I give?”

The elder elf sighed. “It is less about what answer you should give and more about what answer is best for you. Whatever you take, you will have to use it in some manner of another. A watering canteen would indeed be quite useful, and not just for water. Another option would be rope of hithlain, incredibly useful for climbing, erecting a temporary shelter or setting a trap for food. A flintrock is an absolute must. Even if you can not start a fire for fear of being spotted, you can use it to cut, albeit clumsily. I can not tell you how often a simple flint rock and rope has been my salvation. A warm, weather proofed cloak is a good choice. You can make a tent of it which will leave you invisible to those searching, it will keep you dry in the worst snow or rain, not to mention is makes for a fine hammock in the trees.” He winked. “Orcs are miserable at climbing trees.”

Legolas felt ashamed. He had not considered any of these choices! Was he really so foolish?

“Now now. Not a sad face. Legolas, these are things which scouts and warriors often learn through hard lessons when survival is the only alternative to the end. I am teaching you because...well because I see a bit of myself in you. And I was never short of trouble. So why not do what I can to ensure you come back from each adventure as unscathed as possible?” He clapped Legolas on the back. “So, lets try again, what a three items you might bring with you?”

“I think...the cloak would not be of much use now, save the high mountains. It is summer. So...but if I don't take it I shall have to sleep in hard ground.”

“A hardship to be sure. Or...” Haldir knelt down, digging his fingers into the dirt. He dug it up a bit and let Legolas touch the warm earth underneath. “If you must, you can dig a small trench in the earth and sleep in the soft dirt. Or, if you are being followed, you can still climb the trees and sleep in the branches. You are right that a cloak might be too warm in summer. But some adventures go astray and take much longer than they ought to.”

“AH!” Legolas grumbled, thoroughly irritated. “So do I take the cloak or not?”

“The choice is yours. But you will have to make do with the consequences of your decisions.” Haldir smiled. “And that is the true lesson here. No matter what you choose, there will be things which you will have to live without. It is important to recognize that sometimes, there are no right answer.” 

Legolas blinked, not understanding. He was not so terribly young that he did not know this on a mental level. But this was, to be fair, his first trip beyond the boarders of his father's woodland realm. It is a different thing to know something because you have been told it and entirely another to know it for truth because you have lived through it while others have not. 

Haldir knew thing, and patted the young man. “Come. I shall teach you how to fish without line and how to sing so that the trees will help you if your need is dire.”

This was the first of many days spent between Haldir and Legolas. Every morning the young elf would rise up to the song birds and dress in his working leathers. He met Haldir in the glade and together the elf man taught him how to reach the early morning stars for portends of what had happened over night. He showed the younger elf how to turn vines into suitable ropes, how to use honey to keep a wound from turning sour, and which mushrooms would relieve pain while others would ensure an easy death. This was old knowledge, and some of it the scouts has taught Legoas before now But Haldir took his education to the next level. There were things that, as a prince, he had not been exposed to but for the gentleness of his breeding. Things which clearly, Thranduil thought his son would never be exposed to the world outside of his rule. 

“Kingsfoil. It is a weed.”

“It is indeed. And weeds are among the most useful plants.” Haldir took a healthy amount and stuck it in his mouth, chewing it over for a few moments before handing it to Legolas, instructing him to do the same.

He stuck it in his mouth. The taste was floral and pleasant for one brief moment before the bitter and medicinal twinge set in. He almost spit it out, but a numbing sensation began to gather on his tongue, making his words come out garbled.

Haldir laughed, spitting the green smear onto his hand. “It can be used to ease the pain of a wound and slow poisons until help can be reached. You can distill it, if you have time, and the essence of it is immensely good if you need to fell an enemy without killing them so that you may question them later.” He winked with a roguish glean. “When you are old, much much older, come to me and I will tell you how it can aid in other manners.” 

The new blush was a good one, and Legolas felt as though he was being inducted into Haldir's good company. “I am old enough...”

The marchwarden shook his head. “You are growing up very fast and very clever, that I will give you. But you are still a youth. You have much to learn and many good days in which to learn it. Do not be so quick to rush headfirst into the pitfalls of adulthood. Just because one is a grown up does not mean they stop making mistakes.” 

It seemed inconceivable that someone as brilliant and beautiful as Haldir could have a flaw in any way!   
“You are the chief commander of Galadriel's forces, are you not?”

“I am a marchwarden. One of many. But I flatter myself that her ladyship does indeed trust me with much, and relies upon me when there are times when she requires an emissary.” He sat up on the branch, looking out over Rivendell. “But long gone are the days since I last had to bare her standard into battle. Any sane elf would be glad to never have such days come to them.”

“Do...do you think she would accept me into her wardens? To learn in a place where I would not be a prince, but only another elf who wishes to bare the burden of real responsibility?”

Haldir's chest puffed out, clearly proud of what he had managed to teach his student in only a month and how far he had come. “I wish I could give you the answer you do seek so vehemently. But the truth is that you will be a prince no matter where you roam. Even more so if you do it in another elvish kingdom. For there, Lady Galadriel will be burdened with the responsibility of your care and good health as Elrond is here. Should you be harmed or fall while under their care, they would be most distraught and ashamed to have allowed you such unrestricted freedoms.”

“Then how can I learn? How can I shake the shackles of my upbringing if they shall follow me wherever I do tread?”

“Well...you could always go to the Dwarves. My understanding is that they have a more hearty method in bringing up their young.” 

Legolas crinkled his nose. “My father is not overmuch fond of the dwarves. Not since the King Under the Mountain, King Thror became possessed of the Arkenstone and he was made to kneel at his throne.”

Haldir snickered with a wicked sense of humor. “Forgive me. I ought not take such joy in it. Your father is a good king and he protects those under his realm with an admirable tenacity. But it would be a lie to say that he is not a proud and sometimes haughty lord.” 

“...it would be a lie to say I have not noticed it. Since my mother's disappearance he has become taciturn and cold. It worries me greatly.” He pulled up his legs as the sun began to set, the lights for the feast becoming dappled like stars in the high trees of Imladris. “He was not always like this. I feel as though the man who sits on the throne now is one quite different from he who lifted me up in my childhood.”

“We all suffer from this as we grow. We look at our parents and see them as people more than as perfect beings. Your father suffers, Legolas. He hurts for the woman he loves. I do not think now would be the right time to part yourself from his side.” 

Legolas felt a stone drop in his stomach, but he felt the rightness of Haldir's advice and let the dream die in him. 

“Do not look so full of sorrow. The Lady Arwen's celebration is now. Come! Let's get cleaned up before the festival begins! You will want to look your best tonight.”

 

~~~

 

Now he did not feel so out of place in his new silvery leathers! As a child he might have worn a billowing tunic with pleats and lovely trews. But now, nearly adult, he had wanted a finer cut which made his figure more proud and handsome. He did not like to think himself as vain as his father, but he was not without his pride. 

He embraced Arwen once more, a rich smile on her face as she spun in her dark burgundy gown, pretty as a vine laden with grapes Her dark hair was done back and she had the most charming countenance about her as her father, proud as a peacock, escorted her down the stairs to be presented. 

“Lady Arwen.” Legolas greeted her, clasping her hands in his own. “You do look magnificent.”

“You need never call me lady, how often must I tell you this? We are friends, Legolas, and always we shall be to one another.” She held up his chin and winked. “I see you have spent much of the summer with Haldir. I take it you found your stay here enjoyable.”

“I did. He has so much to teach me. I would give everything to spend a year in Lothlorien with him. To spend me nights in the high trees and watch the silver light of the moon pass overhead.”

“And to spend them with Haldir you one true love.” She teased in a quiet voice as he father passed behind them. She quieted herself as he passed, but she did not miss the nod he gave her in the prince's direction. “My father is eager to see me in a happy match sometime in the next thousand years!” she giggled happily. “He says he wants grandchildren before the Third Age of this world passes.”

“I see no elf here nor in any realm who would be worthy of you.” Legolas said, taking two glasses of wine and handing one to her. 

“He does.” She nudged her friend.

“I!” Legolas jumped. “You...Arwen you are more like a sister to me. I deny not your beauty nor your wit. And one day you will make a fine queen. But...”

“I said it was my father's wish. Not mine. You are a dear friend and closest companion. But your letters have made much plain to me.” She looked over at Haldir as he spoke with Glorfindel and sighed. “Legolas, I would offer you council as your friend. Haldir is a fine fellow and your choice does you credit. But I fear you have placed your heart in one who is not free to give you his own.”

He turned his face away. “I do not know what you mean.”

“My dear friend, look at Haldir when he is with his friend. Look at the way in which they lean their heads close to one another when they speak. See how they touch one anothers finger tips fondly. How one smiles when the other speaks. There is much affection there. I would advise you, strongly, to see one closer to your own age, whom would be better suited...”

“I do not know what you mean.” Legolas repeated, for now he felt a burning heat in his belly. 

“Legolas...” Arwen could sense his hurt and reached up to touch his chest. “Come. I will introduce you to my elder brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. They both admire you and are far closer to your age than Haldir.”

“Forgive me my lady I would go speak with my teacher.” He kissed her hand politely so as not to cause a fuss and walked over to where Haldir stood. He did not see the look of sympathy that Arwen sent with him. As with so many things Haldir had said, some lessons can not be learned by anything other than ones own experience. 

Haldir glowed when he saw the youth headed for him. “AH! Here is the one whom I was speaking of!” He motioned for the youth to come forward. “Legolas of Eryn Galen, son of Thranduil. Future greatest archer in all of Middle Earth.” He chuckled, clearly a bit tipsy off the very good wine. “Legolas. There is someone I wish you to meet.”

“I need to speak with you a moment. Alone. In private.” Legolas insisted as he was drug closer to the beautiful elf with the long golden white hair. 

“In a moment. This will thrill you.” he assured his student. “Legolas, this is Glorfindel.”

He needed no more in the way of introduction. Legolas felt all the air leave his lungs, all the wit go right out of him. Glorfindel. THE Glorfindel! The slayer of Balrogs, Firstborn, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower! That merry face and those impressive eyes belonged to...

Of course. How could he compete! What hope could he possibly have to stand in contest to this, of all the elves in Middle Earth! 

Glorfindel reached forward to grasp his arms and welcome him, and Legolas was so weak kneed he almost fell. He could not think of what to say. “I...thought you had long hair.” was all he could bumble out like a fool!

Glorfindel laughed. “I did once. All things considered, I find short hair to be infinantly more practical.” he winked at the others who stood speaking to them. “Won't make the same mistake twice.” A bubbling laughter trickled through the group and Legolas found himself smiling through his dire predicament. 

“I am greatly honored to meet you.” He managed and squeezed the heroic elf's arms. “But I am afraid I must steal away Haldir for but a moment. He could have struck himself blind for such a fool thing to have fallen out of his mouth! 

But Glorfindel seemed to take no notice of it. “Very well. Be sure you do return him when you are finished.” 

Haldir chuckled and followed Legolas out from the party, turning around every few moments to catch another glimpse of his fair beloved. “What is it you need from me?”

Legolas could not speak. He could not think right. He did not know what words to say nor how best to put them in any sort of order which might make sense. He instead chose to do something very childish and very ill advised.

The elder elf jerked back in pure shock as the youth's lips touched his own. He did not seem to know what to make of this, perhaps a touch too drunk to really sort through it in a split second. But the moment his brain made the connection, he took Legolas gently by the shoulders and pried him off, holding him at an arms length away. “Prince...no.”

“No?”

“No.” He seemed to hold only pity in his eyes, a soft kind of understanding. But he would not budge. 

“But...why?” Legolas could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, and tried to persuade himself not to weep in front of someone he so greatly admired. “Is it because you love Glorfindel?”

“I do, and greatly. But that is only one reason why I deny you.” He let go, but only so that he might take a step away. “Legolas you are still young. Still far too young to ask me for this.”

“Not by half. I shall have my own celebration in only two decades hence. What is that compared to the ageless years we shall have?” He sniffled, knowing his voice came out whiny and higher than he wanted. He even sounded like a child to himself. 

“And in that two decades you may be a very different person from who you are now, which is a young elf I greatly admire and wish only the best for. I am happy to be your teacher in many things, but not in this.” Haldir warned him. “Go home, Legolas. Go to your woodland realm and find a fine elf youth to kiss and dally with. Learn that way. But this...this must not and can not happen again.”

“I feel a fool.”

“You are behaving foolishly. That does not a fool make.” 

“That does not change how I feel on the matter.”

“And in all likelihood it will not change. I have suffered heartbreak alongside the scars of battle. And I promise you now, the sting will dull over time.” Haldir straightened himself up, now objectionably sober. 

“Is it because I am a Prince?” he whispered quietly, still trying to find some reason that would make sense to him, somewhere else he could put the blame.

“That too. Thranduil is known to conspire with Elrond in the hopes that you and the Evening Star will make a fine match some day. But if this is your preference, than perhaps you have speak with your father in regards to your wishes in a lover. I can not help you there. You must be brave in this on your own terms if nothing else.” Haldir did wish to comfort him, but as a teacher and friend, without any intention of offering romantic entanglement. “I am sorry if, by word or deed, I did mislead you into the thought that I had any wish for intimacy with you beyond that of a student and pupil.” 

Legolas shook his head. Now that he thought on it, now that he took a moment to see past his youthful wish fulfillment and blind hope, never had Haldir behaved towards him as anything but a friend. “I...I am sorry. I should have...I should have told you from the beginning that I had such thoughts.”

“...do you remember what I told you in the start of the summer?” Haldir asked him in the hopes that the lesson had stuck.

He thought for a moment, a difficult thing past the hazy dullness of his own emotional pain. “That...that there are no right answers?”

“Yes. You made a mistake Legolas. And now it is your opportunity to grow from it and make a better choice next time.” He took a chance and embraced the weeping youth, patting his back and offering a gently comfort. “It is my hope that we meet again sometime, and that we will know one another as friends. Go home on the morrow, Legolas, and I hope that your journey back is a peaceful one.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter this time, a midway point before Legolas grows up a bit. But the idea was far too sweet and angsty for me not to cover.

“Legolas! Do not!”

He saw her then, and he knew why his father had not wished him to come into the hall while she lay there. The healers had not yet had the opportunity to see to her, and so her body came to them as it had been found, plundered and split by their foul and tainted blades. The elves who had brought her had been given no time to properly tend her, but had wrapped her in the cloaks of Lorien out of respect for her state and station before carrying the lady of Eryn Galen home at long last. 

Thranduil came up behind his son, his hands, which had never faltered with blade or command, now shook in unsettling sorrow as he clasped Legolas's young shoulders. “Do not look away.” he spoke softly, the tears in his voice a dry echo in the halls. “Do not look away from her, my son. She endured. This was and has always been her strength. Never forget that.” His heart breaking, Thranduil turned to the company of elves who stood at her side, his eyes like a storm before a clam sea. “Tell me everything.”

For a long moment, Legolas did not know the voice that spoke. He was too consumed by the face of his mother. Bruised and battered as it was, he could stills see the sweetness of her countenance, the rosy glow of her cheeks that shone with the light of all elves. He reached out to touch her fingers and found them no longer possessed of the warmth which hand once drawn through his hair with such care. Her nails were caked with dirt and broken, her hair had been shorn from the pale golden locks that once shared the same color of water lilies. That was the most disrespectful thing. She had cared for her hair. His father had once shown his love of her by braiding tiny flowers into it merely to make her smile. Legolas could not move. He could not see nor hear anything. It was as if he was frightened to stop looking at her. As if she might breath or stir from this unkind slumber.

“We were far from Lorien, lord Thranduil, for we had heard rumors of a company of orcs traveling under heavy armor and heading towards Rivendell with ill intent. Lord Elrond, having long been close to our Lady, requested our assistance in scouring the mountains and taking them by surprise. For days we searched, through rain and wind and terrible weather, until we came upon them quite by chance. We slew them, but left a few alive to question. As we spoke, one foul created who called himself Rethswol said something about elvish hair and how it gleamed, and how he wondered if elvish men screamed when it was cut the same way...” The elf who was speaking suddenly became quiet, looking at the young Legolas with a wary and soft eye.

“I would have my son know the truth of things, Lord Glorfindel. Please, continue.”

Glorfindel nodded, though he did not seem pleased by it. “He wondered if elf men would scream as a lady elf when their hair was cut from their head. He had recently had the pleasure of such entertainment with an elfish lady. He showed his prize to us as he laughed.” Glorfindel took a cloth, holding it as though it were a sacred artifact, and unraveled it to reveal a thick braid of the ladies hair, tied with leather to be worn about a belt. He presented it to Thranduil on bended knee, returning it to one who knew it's worth. Thranduil took it, clutching it to his breast and bidding the elf continue. 

“We knew then who they must have. We gathered Elrond's folk and traveled to the fortress of Gundabad in the north where once dwelt the Witch-King of Angmar. His lands are foul and barren, full of dangers and evil beasts who plauged us and told the orc Azog of our coming.” Glorfindel shook his head with disdain. “We were lucky, Lord Thranduil. Azog's forces were split, his son Bolg had taken them to Moria to ensure they could keep the mines. Tales of a dragon attacking the once grand city of Erebor have no doubt reached your ears. They are worried the displaced line of Durin will seek to retake the once great stronghold.”

“Did you take the fortress?” The king demanded, wishing perhaps to find some consolation in the knowledge that the enemy had been defeated.

“We did not. There were not near enough of us to manage such a feat. We raided it for one reason only, to bring back proof that her lady had been there. You know well the habits of orcs with their victims. We did not expect to be so fortunate as to find her body. But once we did, we wrapped her tightly and bore her swiftly as we might travel to your lands, Lord Thranduil. The Lady of Eryn Galen had been returned to her homeland.”

“Her home is not here, but across the sea.” Thranduil said softly, placing his hand upon her broken crown and struggling with his tears. “She dwells there now, in the Grey Havens, where she is ever green and full of laughter. Where no ax nor knife can touch her.” He sucked in a deep breath and bowed his head to the elvish legend. “You have our undying gratitude, Lord Glorfindel. Words can not express...”

“Then do not speak them, my Lord. As one who knows better then most, there is nothing beyond the veil but light, and the clear shores of a land that knows no winter. She will wait there.” He smiled gently, bowing to the king. No one would dare doubt his word. Elves, when they did pass, did not often return. Those who did, only did so for an excellent reason. “We knew her ladyship well. Her kindness and generosity will not be forgotten. Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel send their deepest sympathies and share in your sorrow.”

“I doubt very much that any might share in my sorrow.” He retorted, clutching Legolas close to him, as if the boy were the only thing keeping him standing. 

“Their sympathies are there, none the less. They entreat you to request assistance, should you need it in any way. I stand here as my own envoy, but I knew your lady well in her youth. And envoys from Rivendell and Lorien as well wish to say their goodbyes to her, should you permit it.”

“I shall, for it would please her well. But understand this.” Thranduil stood tall, drawing all his command and presence to himself. “Once you leave the Greenwood, turn your backs and make for your homes. Once the ceremony is completed and my Lady has been mourned, Eryn Galen will close it's doors, and my lands will no longer become welcoming to outside visitors.” He stepped back, allowing for the healers to take his wifes body and prepare it. “You may say your good byes when the sun rises. I will take my leave now. There is much work to be done.”

Legolas strayed from his father's side, unable to tear his eyes from her. It was not until Glorfindel came to his side that he could manage to pull away from his own grief, and only then thanks to years of good breeding and propriety. “My father is wrapped up in his grief. If he has not seemed thankful enough, please do not blame him. We are, all of us, grateful to you.” He sniffled between his words, trying to find the right ones. He tried not to wipe his nose or his eyes on his sleeve. It would be a very childish thing to do and he could not bare to be childish in front of this great warrior. 

Glorfindel took a handkerchief from his belt pouch and handed it to Legolas. “You bare a striking resemblance to her, both in appearance and in temperament. Grief is not a sin, young Greenleaf. Indeed there are few emotions which are inherently problematic. Let yourself mourn her, and do not be ashamed for tears. But remember that this vessel which we inhabit is only that. Like a ship which bares us hence through the waters of life, it is not the sails or oars which make it a worthy vessel, but the one who captains it.” He looked over his shoulder at the retreating Thranduil, and lowered his voice. “Do not let grief become a cloak which you use to hide away from the world. Be free, Legolas. She would want you to be.”

For a time he said nothing, but he could not let what was in his heart remain silent. He waited until the healers had taken his mothers body to prepare it, baring her away as if they held her hands and guided her to her chambers, that he turned to Glorfindel. “I am sorry.” Legolas saw the great elfish lord pause. “For...the business last summer. I...acted foolishly...”

“Perhaps. But there has yet to be a young elf who has not acted foolishly in matters of the heart. And I doubt very much that there ever will be.” He turned with a gentle and understanding smile, looking every bit the glorious hero of old with his hand on the hilt of his sword and a rakishly daring smile. “I once kissed a dwarvish lass with the prettiest red beard you'd ever seen. Her father chased me half way across the mountains with an ax.”

Legolas started. “You kissed a dwarf!”

“Well, we kissed one another. We were both very drunk.” He smiled again and Legolas could see just how easily it would be to fall in love with him. “I will stay through tomorrows ceremony to bid her farewell. I will impart to Haldir what happened so that he may tell his lady.”

“Was Haldir with you during my mothers rescue?” 

“Indeed he was. He was instrumental in her retrieval and in returning her here, to her beloved family. He...ah...he did not think you would want to see him. Not in a moment when the pain is so fresh.”

“It is a pity then.” Legolas smiled. “I would have liked to thank him. Will you...thank him for me?”

The smile of this elfish hero grew more kind and more dazzling by the moment. “I will indeed, my young lord. I will indeed.”

~~~

Healers, or at least those of the elvish sort, are not limited to care of the living, but tending to the bodies of the dead. It is not a skill that they practice much, given the immortality of an elves fëa and hröa. But they know it none the less. They tended to the Lady of Eryn Galen as befitted a queen, and when she came to the base of the tree that would be her bodies final resting place, it was as if she merely slept, her beauty restored to all but the most observant eye.

It was then that Legolas heart his father sing for the last time. His voice carried over the woodland realm, the leaves and the wind silenced themselves to pay homage to his mourning. His weeping was carried through glen and tree and up through the tallest towers, and the light shone through the dappled branches and cast it's tender glow upon her body. 

Into the ground she was lowered, her flesh returned to the soft, warm earth where it might give it's force to the trees and the wilderness. Thranduil knelt then, removing the silver and white crown which he had worn all his reign, as it had belonged to his father before him, and placed it in her hands. He buried his fingers in the dark soil and covered her himself, his strength not failing. 

Legolas watched as his father took the twining branches and mulberry leaves, plucked the white berries and purple flowering blossoms from the tree, binding them together to make a crown for himself. No one dared moved nor yet speak while he did this. They all seemed to understand that this moment was made for silence and watchfulness. 

When Thranduil stood again, there was a coldness and distance to him which had not existed before. “Send word to the marchwardens of the Greenwood. Our boarders are now closed to all but our own kin. None may come or go without our leave, so says the king of Mirkwood.”


	5. Chapter 5

The webbing had begun to run thick as moss, clinging to the branches and stripping them of all their glossy bark and shining leaves. It was as if a leech had sucked the blood from the forest, leaving it's surroundings dimmed of light and glory. 

Legolas could feel it in his bones. Nothing here was as it should be.

Tauriel came up behind him, quiet as a whisper in a wind and tapped his shoulder. “You see? You feel it to, don't you?”

“I do. Anyone could feel it.” he stood up and looked to his dear friend, his brows furrowed keenly in interest of this new development. “Why did you not come to my father with this news?”

Tauriel pursed her lips, the concern on her face written clear as runes on rocks. “It is not my place, my prince, to bring such things to the attention of the king.”

“You are the captain of the Marchwardens of Mirkwood. If it is not your place to tell my father when ill omens meet in our kingdom, who's place is it then?” He demanded of her. Still, how could he blame her. In the years since his mother's death, a great change had overcome Thranduil. He kept his own council more than that of his learned kin, and listened to advice seldom if ever. 

“Perhaps his own son, who I would hope is more put to reason when he has seen the troubles with his own eyes.” She countered him with wry inquisition. “Someone must speak to him. Mirkwood is fast becoming an unsafe place, ever for the most practiced and cunning elf.”

“We have lost no one to this plague. And what are spiders, even particularly large spiders, to us. All manner of wild beasts roam the woodlands.”

“But these are not from our woodlands. They come up from the south. From...”

“Dol Guldur.” He surmised and muttered a curse under his breath. “You know what he will say.” Legolas turned to her, not much hope in his eyes as he spoke frankly. “He will say that lies beyond our borders, that we must look to our own and keep safe our kingdom.”

“I know what Thranduil of Mirkwood will say. What does Legolas say? Tell me that?” Tauriel tapped her foot impatiently, clearly irritated with him for long past this. When he said nothing for a moment too long, she made a noise of sheer irate breath and reclined back against the tree. “When did you begin to grow afraid of speaking to him?”

“I am not afraid.” He insisted, full of his own sense of pique over this. “But you know as well as I that he does not respond well to direct confrontation. There must be only one voice above the others if Mirkwood is to persevere.”

“I did not know a wizard had cursed you.”

“Cursed me?” He blinked, not getting it. “I do not understand.”

“Well it is clear someone has turned you into a crow, as you mimic your fathers words so clearly from memory.” 

“What is this?” He turned on her, trying not to pout. He had a bad habit of a discontented pout in his youth that felt childish now in adulthood. Yet it still took some effort to control when he wasn't thinking about it. “Why do you hassle me so?”

“Because I though we to be friends. I thought to myself that surely if I were to show you this abomination scouring through our homelands, you would believe me.” 

“You think I do not believe you? I would have to be blind and dumb not to see the troubles that lie in this encroaching web. You think I would forsake your work or my own eyes and good wit? Tauriel have you so little faith in me as a friend?” Legolas reached out and took her hand, grasping it in his own with a returned strength. “Prince I may be. But a prince is a not a king. I can not make my father see reason. I can not make him listen if his ears are deaf to it.”

A sharp, painful screech echoed over the woods, the gnarled branches low and threatening. The two elves fell silent, listening to the skittering of legs and the dull scratching of thing, terrible things moving just out of eyesight. 

“I can feel something here.”

“I have not your connection to the forest, but I know my own senses. There are greater things here. No mere large spiders as pop up from time to time to feast on rabbit and pheasant.” Tauriel krept closer, her footsteps careful now, as if feeling the peering and unwelcome presence of many eyes staring at her. “Do you remember the old books of our peoples history? The stories of how the Darkness took form out of it's own insatiable desire to devour all Light?”

“Of how it became the abomination, Ungoliant.”

Grand-mother. Old mother. Grand-mother. 

They heard the sound of it, creeping through the branches, echoing about them in the Black Speech. Tauriel did not speak it, but Legolas had heard his father use it before, and he knew the sound of it even as it burned a hole in his breast to know it lingered in this place. 

“Of how she became so massive that even the evil which summoned her grew wary of her power and sought to contain her. Their alliance soured and when she betrayed him, she was run off to the land of Nan Dungortheb where she bred with the great spiders that dwell there. Her offspring were wretched and horrible, but they were powerful and that was all she cared about.” Legolas licked his lips as the whispered cackle of words vanished into the far distant shadows. “Her descendants do not dwell here.”

“Do they not?” He took the thick web between her fingers and examined it. “I have not seen more than a few, and I will not lie, they were no bigger than the ones we were used to. But there was a sense there, Legolas. A sense of darkness and dread. A feeling which made me quake as I have not since I was but a child and frightened of shadows in my room.” Tauriel shook her head at him. 

He closed his eyes and reached out, feeling the world around him, reading the trees and the rock and the dirt and listening for the wood to reach back and speak to him. 

Nothing answered. All around them lay dead and silent.

Something like a bolt of terror quaked and slapped him, a black shadow in the shape of tall and forbidding man crawled just out of his vision and then, as if offended by his prying, struck him back like the hand of a father to a disobedient child. 

“Legolas! Legolas!” 

He drew breath again and everything in him felt that wash of dread spill in sweat from his skin. He was lying on the ground, Taruiel over him, trying to wake him. “I am awake. I am awake!” he sat up, wiping his brow.

“Damn you!” she said when she saw him stir and slapped him. “Damn you for giving me such a fright!”

Legolas clutched his heart and looked off into the dark thatch of branch and spider webs. “I will speak to my father.” he assured her. “I will persuade him.”

~~~

“You begin to concern me, my son.”

Legolas was somewhere around his two thousandth year. The days when he was considered but a youth were gone. He had long ago gained some status as he joined the Marchwardens of Mirkwood, eager to prove himself as something more than a mere prince-ling born into privilege. And yet as he stood before his father's throne, the cold and distant voice seemed always above him, an old wisdom he ought to know better than to question by now. “It is good that I should concern you father, for it comes to my mind that there is much to be concerned with...”

“My concerns are, of course, over the undue amount of faith you place in the captain of the Marchwardens. This and the seeming sway she holds over your good sense.” He continued as if he had not heard the words of his own child. “It is trouble to me that you would let her overtake you so easily.”

“She does not overtake me. But it comes to my mind that there is little purpose in placing a person in charge of guarding our home if we do not intend to listen to her when she has discovered something most troubling.” He insisted, standing before Thranduil, head held high and erect. 

“A spider nest.” Thranduil said with utter contempt in his voice. “And have we not had spider nests to deal with before? The are a nuisance but no more than mice in a grainy. Troublesome but easily dealt with. If this is what bothers my Captain so greatly, I give her my full and enthusiastic consent to eradicate the nest. Burn the webs, crush the eggs and put arrows through the filthy spawn. You may even join her if it gives you pleasure to do so. I can not help but notice that you spend more time in the woods than you do amid your studies.” 

“I am well learned. I am well studied. A king should know his kingdom, every branch and every leaf and every hill and cavern. As you once did.” 

Thranduil sat up from the throne, his eyes fixed on his son, his nose scrunched up as he saw his personal guard glance at one another. “There is not one inch of this kingdom which I do know know, my son.”

“Perhaps this was true. In my youth I often heard it said how you secured the borders of Eryn Galen, made this wood a safe haven for our people, a paradise of green leaves and sunlight. But this is no longer Eryn Galen, father. This is Mirkwood. And you have long since remained in our palace and forgone the comfort of the trees.” 

“From what you say there is little comfort to be found in them these days.” Thranduil sighed and his brow darkened. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, the world about him stilling to a quiet thrum in the depth of the wood. All stretched out from him, and it was as though the throne were he and he the throne. The light exuded from his being and Thranduil gasped as if taken by a force. 

Legolas could feel the power in it, he could see it wander through the roots and trunks, seeking out the foulness that had crept into this place. With wonder he stared up at his father, witnessing the leaves of his crown flourish into bright green and ginger gold. For a moment, he saw his father as he had been.

And then it was gone, Thranduil rigid on his throne, his nails scraping the wood on the armrests as he caught his breath and stood. Before, he had seemed unconcerned, but now there was a fear in the back of his mind, etched on his face as it draw over his features. 

“Father?”

Thranduil did not answer. 

“Father!”

He snapped, looking at his son with an open and vulnerable expression. For the moment, it was as if he saw his boy, not the man. Just as quickly, it faded from sigh, the cool composure of a king returning to his visage. “Take Tauriel and contingent of our fighters and rid us of these pests. I want their nests wiped from our woods. But do not walk beyond our boarders. We have our own to look after. What happens beyond these lands is not of our concern.”

“Father...”

“I am your king first!” he hissed, turning in all his grace and glory, his power now shown with assurance. “And you will remember this, my son. My son.” he strode to Legolas and placed his hands on his shoulders, gazing into his clear blue eyes and showing his sorrow only to him. “Do not threaten me with your loss out of petulance. I am a king. This burden I was made to bare. But do not make me suffer as a father, as well as a husband.”

What could he say to that? What words could he offer that would not cause Thranduil more pain? 

“Is it not the duty of a son to take some of his fathers burden from him?” He asked, clutching Thranduil's elbows. 

“Then do your duty and cause me no strife. Destroy the nests.”

“Yes, father.”

~~~

“What could I say to him, Tauriel?”

“Nothing but what you said.” Her anger seemed spent as she followed him quickly towards the gates, affixing her armor tightly and checking her weapons. 

“Do you mean that as a jest?”

“I do not. You spoke to him, that was all I asked of you. It can not be helped if he has no ears for listening.” She turned to her wardens, giving them quick orders. “Gwaem! Tolo ar nin!” 

Legolas waved for the gated to be opened. “We'll do as we were bade. At the least that will end the problem for now.”

“For now, but not for long.”

Legolas sighed and turned to his friend. “For now will have to do. Perhaps in time we may persuade him to let us do more. For the sake of our people and our realm we must do what we can.” he clapped her back with a keen smile, trying to instill some sense of hope. “Are you with me Tauriel?”

She tossed back her ginger hair. “I am always with you.” 

It was a short jaunt, for elves move faster than most. It was nothing to cross the expanse of Mirkwood and make their way to the south to where the spiders had festered and spun their rot. They stood at the borders and Legolas could feel the creeping sense of legs tapping up and down his spine. “We go to finish the nests and the beasts that lay them. When all is done we must do as my father bade us and burn it.”

“Burn the wood, my lord?” Asked one, seeming concerned. 

“Aye. Burn the wood. But keep the fire from spreading. Even life my spring from ash, but life can not grow where it is strangled in it's infancy.” He walked forward, leading them into it. There was a miasma here, for giant spiders left behind the bones and fur of their victims piled high amid the offensive scent of their excrement. The smell would linger in their fabrics and the leathers they wore would need to be burned after. 

They moved swiftly up into the heights of the trees. The arachnid folk liked the middle path, high enough up to drop down from above and take their prey by surprise, but not so far up that the light of the sun would touch their hides and burn their flesh. They were fat, heavy creatures that gorged themselves, and the thin branches at the top could not support them and their webs. It was the path of the elves to trod on the highest, the smallest branches, for their feet fell lighter than a feather upon a pond's surface. And it was from this position that they came upon the nest. 

Webs so carefully strung as to make a tower of them, the spawn of a hundred massive spiders crawling about the insides, their shadows cast through it as the elven contingent viewed them with open disgust. Tauriel would ask no one else, but climbed the tower lithe and quick, peeking in through the holes to seek what they had come for. She jumped back down, crouching and speaking quietly. “There are only a few left guarding the eggs. The rest must be elsewhere.”

“Here.” One named Illion took several bottles from her pouch, filled with lamp oil. “When I heard what we were going after, I took these from the stores. If we might use them as incendiaries and put the whole tower to light, we can always hunt down the others as we come upon them.”

“Fair enough but if we burn this nest they will begin to construct another. One we may not find in time. Like any predator, they will simply change their territory when threatened.” Legolas offered. “I like the idea of incendiaries though. If we could only get them all in one place, or at least most of them. I don't mind hunting off a few others but I'd like to get the bulk in one fell swoop.” 

“Can we lure the rest here?”

“Then we risk exposing ourselves. They've proven they can kill elves.” Tauriel reminded them. “We need to do this with subtlety.” she looked over her shoulder, always wary of the silence of these beasts. 'If they are off and hunting, then it is likely they shall return soon with their haul. We may be able to get the most of them.”

“Until then take shelter amid the trees. Hide yourselves and keep a careful watch. They may return sooner than we might...”

They all had to duck and cover quickly. Like a great swarm of a plague from an old tale, the arachnids crawled from their holes and climbed over the trunks of trees. They drug with them web sacks full of their prey, ready to bring it back to their nest and feed their loathsome offspring. 

Tauriel caught Legolas's eyes and gave him a wry wink. Convenient. 

They watched as one of the big ones with bright red and orange markings gave a shrieking call, it's voice like a shrill note on a fiddle. A moment later the webbing was tugged apart, allowing their kin to enter. 

The contingent watched them slide in, all thinking the same thoughts. What lie in those sacks? Were their kin within it? Could they hope that these webs held only animals? If elves were being drug within it was a good notion that they were already gone from this world and could not be saved. Not by their actions. 

Legolas gestured when the last of the arachnids had crawled inside, taking a few of the bottles. He held up three fingers and pointed four times, then to himself and Illion, Tauriel and the elf he knew was called Numina. He pointed to himself, then down, them than up. They were going to form a fire tunnel by lighting the incendiaries at the top and the bottle, leaving the beasts to try and claw their way through their own thick webs in the middle. With a little luck, they would be able to kill off the ones who made it through. 

Tauriel nodded and made quiet gestures to the rest of their party, ordering them to disperse through the trees and be ready to kill anything with more than two legs and two eyes. 

In a strange way, Legolas felt more alive now than he ever did within the walls of his fathers palace. Here there was work to do. It was better to liver dangerously, productively, than to waste time stagnant at the side of the throne. 

They stood back and Tauriel lit two arrows with fire, notching them and pointing them to the bombs. 

Fire cleansed. 

The shrieking was almost human. Not many could hear it as he did. Not many could hear their chattering, insect like threats in that dark and terrible speech. 

Elves! Elves! Elvish tricks and fire burns at us! Protect the eggs! Protect the eggs!

“Here they come! Gird yourselves!”

There was a hole torn through the side and Legolas fired into it, striking the beasts with arrow after arrow. He could hear them coming through on other parts, and his people sent a volley to keep them from breaking free all at once. 

Stinging stick and points! Spit at them! Show them what stinging is!

Legolas lifted his cloak and many of the others did the same, cued by his actions. He lifted his blade quickly, aware that this defensive move cost them seconds that allowed the squirming and spindly bodies to begin to work free. “Blades to the front! Bows keep them at bay!”

Any elf with skill at a blade pushed to the ready, laying into the spiders and ripping into them. There was a satisfaction that could not be described in watching those fanged demons fall into crouched balls as they thunked upon the forest floor. Legolas slid through one, glad to see the fine elvish blades preformed well. They had been a gift on the day he had become a grown elf. 

He knew who had sent them, Lorien blades had a different song to them. 

Again and again they took down the spiders until the nest was up in flames and spreading to the dry kindling of the once proud trees. 

“Fly!” He called out, watching as the last few spiders began to skitter away, too few in number to stand a chance at this battle. Legolas joined with his troops, running over branch and leaf with them as they fled from the place where the blaze would consume and purify. If the smell before had been awful, it was now a breath taking, purge inducing smog that coiled through the very soul of him.   
They hit the edge of the territory before the fires and began to put themselves to work keeping the burning where it could do it's work. Though Legolas could not control the waters as some could, there were those among them who could make good use of it and drew up the rivers, letting them flood the ground and hold back the inferno. 

All night and into the next day, they watched it burn. 

But Legolas did not feel the sense of accomplishment he had expected. “Do you still feel it?” he asked of his friend, looking up at her perhaps for some moment of comfort.

“I do. But it is distant now, far reaching off to the lands beyond our borders.” She gazed at him and they could feel what one another was thinking. 

“Tauriel...tell the others to go back home.” He stood, readying himself as he looked out along the dying embers that sparkled on the dead earth like strange flowers. “I hesitate to ask this of you, as it could well mean your position that you have worked so hard to earn in your home.”

“To Dol Guldur, is it then my lord?” She smiled, cracking her neck. “Well if my prince commands, how then can I disobey?”

“Command.” Legolas chuffed. “Was there ever a command I gave that you obeyed?”

“Not when I thought it wise to other otherwise.” She turned to give the orders, allowing the rest of them to escape the blame that was sure to follow this ill advised adventure. They walked quickly towards the borders, eager to make time before their absence was noticed. “Do you remember when we were children, and we got into that scuffle with the orcs?”

“I do. I remember it quite well.”

“Does this remind you of that?”

“Perhaps a bit. Though I'd like to think we are at least somewhat more prepared by this point.” 

“Don't say that. You say something like that then we're bound to encounter more trouble.” She warned him pointedly. “As if giant spider nests were not trouble enough.”

“Trouble? If ever there were two elves who seemed to invite trouble by their mere presence, I have no doubts it would be the two of you.”

Legolas had thought that, after such a long time, the effect might be somewhat dimmed. Perhaps it was, or perhaps he had merely come to an age where he better understood his own self. He turned to face the Lorien elf on horseback, a strange mingling of old joy and bitter humility crawling over him. “Haldir of Lorien. We did not expect to see you of all people here.”

“Legolas, son of Thranduil, and Tauriel of Mirkwood.” He gave the same inclination to the both of them, smiling grandly. “I had not expected to be here myself. The lady of Lorien's sight is far reaching, and her ways are utterly her own. What she asks of us to do, we do not often call into question. So when the Lady Galadriel turns to me and tells me to head to the borders of Mirkwood, I take my horse and I ride.” Haldir smiled, nursing the dim light they allowed themselves in this land. “And who should I happen upon but two kin of our people bound to an errand of secrecy.”

“To be fair, we had not intended ourselves to trespass beyond the borders.” Legolas defended. “But as we came to these loathsome monsters, it was apparent that we could not leave things as they were.” 

“It has been some time, but last I heard, Thranduil of Mirkwood was not permitting anyone in nor out of his kingdom.”

“It has been some time, but my father is not given to changing his stance on a whim.” Legolas crossed his arms. “And knowing this, may I ask what you were doing so close to our borders.”

“Legolas...” Tauriel muttered, but he ignored her.

“Close indeed, young prince, but not within them.” he insisted. “And therefor still well within the bounds of your fathers law. A word to the wise, my prince. It's not a clever thing to antagonize someone for breaking the same word of law as you yourself are in violation of. Even if you are the kings son.”

Legolas went pink about the cheeks and his lips pursed. He'd never managed the look of regal fury his father could maintain after an insult. 

“If I may ask, Marchwarden, what were you doing so close to Mirkwood's borders?”

“As it would seem we act in tandem with one another, I can see no harm in telling you. As I have said, the Lady Galadriel may cast her sights upon many things. And she has seen a great danger rising at the towers of Amon Lanc. A darkness is coming from it's area, a kind of rot. It would do us a great deal of good to cut this down while we can.”

“You suspect something much more problematic than spiders, I take it, else she would not have sent you.” Tauriel observed. “We are pleased to have you with us.”

“Not as pleased as I.” Haldir assured her. “I had heard the ranks of Mirkwood had a new captain among them. Your station does you credit, Marchwarden Tauriel.”

“I am surprised you had heard of me. We were but children when I had met you, Legolas and I. And at the time I can not say that I must have born remembering.” 

“I remember much. And as for whether or not you bare remembering, well...that is not my place to decide. Besides, Legolas spoke well of you, and often. I confess I am not surprised to find you two in one anothers company.” Not surprised was the least of it. If anything he looked downright relieved, as if a great weight of concerns had just been removed from his shoulders. “If you will permit my company...”

“Whether you come or go is of little concern to us. But if you mean to find the source of the spiders and destroy them, then I suppose we travel the same path.” Legolas informed him. 

“We might be of help to one another.”

“I go hence on my own errand, though it might be of help to my people. If you go with us, I have no quarrel with this. But as it is...” he looked to Haldir. “...is as it is.” 

Tauriel looked at him as if she'd be pleased to smack him along the back of the head quite fiercely. “As it is, I for one am glad of a third pair of eyes.”

“You had plenty with you before. Ah, but you did not wish to involve them when this is not what you should be doing by the will of your lord.” He eyed Legolas and nodded as if content. “Sometimes one must make their own decisions and bare the consequences of them. But it is good that you spared others this. I will come with you. For what it's worth we may be of some use to one another.”

“So be it.” Legolas looked about. “The trail is not difficult to follow from here. They cut a swatch across the land wide as a heard of cattle.” He pointed off to the south, where the webbing seemed to lay in patches and where thin branches had been snapped from their fat weight upon them. 

“Indeed. I had been headed that direction when I spied the curls of smoke reaching the clouds. I thought to come and have a look for myself.” Haldir dismounted, smacking the mare on the rump and letting it canter off back towards it's home. “Horses are of little good around spiders. Besides, I am quite fine if we make use of the treetops.”

“It is two days travel to Dol Guldur.” Legolas suggested, as if he wanted to make the warrior elf aware of the distance they would have to cross. 

“And I don't suppose you remember how to make a bower of branches and leaves so as to sleep in comfort amid the canopy?” Haldir looked at him over the bridge of his nose. “Or has it been so long?”

Legolas gazed at him coolly, trying to give nothing away, trying so very hard to seem more in control of himself. 

“Or...” Haldir looked at Legolas, than to Tauriel, then to Legolas, than to Tauriel. “Ah...well I see.” he smiled sincerely at Legolas. “The leafen bowers do not support two nearly as well as one.”

Now it was the time for the both of them to look embarrassed beyond comparison. 

“Oh gracious!”

“No we...my lord Legolas and I...”

“Tauriel has been my friend since childhood!”

“Pity then.” Haldir shrugged. “It would have made for the perfect excuse.”

“How so?”

“Well when you return, days after the contingent has already been home for some time, do you not think your father will not notice the absence of the both of you? Hum?” Haldir pointed. “you would be better served, if he thought that you had taken used the opportunity to make time with one another, rather than directly disobeying his orders by leaving the territory.” 

“I will not be a liar to my own father.” Legolas insisted. 

“Than lay together.” Haldir shrugged. “He is too polite to ask what you did or how well you did it. Merely sleep side by side and when he asks, tell him you shared a bower.” 

“That is not altogether a wise idea.” Tauriel observed. 

“Better than the alternative.” 

He took the lead, perhaps merely because he was used to doing so. One does not rise to such a high standing of trust without having become accustomed to the role of leadership inherent in it. Perhaps it was not a wise idea to be so very sure of his role here, as he had come late to the game and it might be viewed as a smack in the face. Not that he intended it to be so.

But for Legolas...well...other feelings were involved. So maybe it was not right to rely solely on his perception of the matter. 

That night, they took shelter under a great oak tree, Haldir offering to take the first watch of the night and allow them a moment to decide how best to proceed. 

There was a chill in the air. The days remained temperate while the nights grew colder. So as Legolas made the bower, taking rope and vine and binding them together securely, laying a bed of thick leaves and straw to keep them comfortable, it did not seem so strange a thing to share a bit of warmth between their two cloaks together. 

Legolas did not like the way Haldir smiled as Tauriel joined him. 

“You are behaving poorly.”

“I behave myself. I should not have let you talk me into this.” he growled, in a poor mood sighed, now.

“Súrë túla cendeletyallo. Do not try to turn this decision on me! You were just as eager to discover what is going on as I am nobody made you come!” 

“Hush!” He hissed. “I do not want him to think we are arguing!”

“Why not? We are not lovers. We are friends. Though you are hardly behaving like one.” The she-elf sighed, thoroughly done with his sudden foul temperament. “It is not my fault you still cling to old hopes long since gone.”

His mouth opened his wide she could see his uvula. “I...do...you! YOU...I feel no...be silent!”

Tauriel flipped over, blinking as if she could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “You do still care for him.”

“I was a youth and a foolish one at that.”

“Can say much has improved with age. You made a very small mistake. I dare say he likely does not even recall it. As you spoke it to me he was quite drunk at the time.” The ginger haired elf tried to offer him some means of comfort, knowing how much that incident had torn at his heart for so long. 

“That would make it all the worse.” He grumbled and peered over the edge of the hanging bed at where Haldir stood. It was truly not fair. Since their last conversation a little under 1900 years before, Legolas still found himself star struck by the light of the elf. He had wallowed for a time, truly bereft and utterly heartbroken, both for the sake of his foolish actions and then again the retrospective humiliation of what would occur if anyone besides Haldir and Tauriel were to discover what he had done. And yet Haldir seemed entirely content to have come across him again, as if he could not grasp that the mere sight of him might make Legolas frozen with bitter embarrassment.

“If it troubles you so, than take council with him. Speak to him. What child is not entitled to make a poor decision or to let themselves be exposed to heartbreak?” 

“I do not see why I should be forced to...”

“No one is forcing you, ninny.” Tauriel insisted with a shove. “But for the sake of the man who was your mentor, your tutor, for the kindness he showed which saved your lives...” she grabbed Legolas as he tried to turn around and ignore her. “...and who returned your mother's body to you, so that her Grace might be received.”

It was not fair, but it was right. And Legolas was far too proud and too well born to forsake himself. He wrestled himself up from the bed as Tauriel shoved him up onto the branch, turning over so that she could grab a few hours sleep before her watch. Legolas turned his lip up at her and made a face, which had she been paying attention, she would have returned with an even ruder one. He could feel a weight like a stone in his stomach as he crossed the branches and stood next to Haldir, arms crossed before his wait. Then behind himself. Then swinging at his side till he felt sure he did not know what in the blazes to do with them! 

“Good evening, Lord Legolas.” 

“I would rather you did not call me that.” he said smartly, then thought of how sharp it sounded. “I am no lord, Master Haldir.”

“And I am no Master.” Haldir looked over his shoulder. “Come now. Whats say we merely speak to one another then? Hum? No titles between us. Besides, there is a nip in the air and the Greenwood can not have changed so greatly that an elf of it's trees does not carry a flask of wine with them.” 

Legolas reached at his pouch and pulled out a fat wineskin. “I do not know about the rest of my kin, but as my fathers son I would never be caught without fortification.” He handed the alcohol to Haldir and watched him take a good sip from it. “We are glad to have you here, in truth. I am concerned about many things and I am, due to these worries not the best traveling companion. As Tauriel. She will tell you plain enough.”

“Tauriel. Aye.” He looked over his shoulder with a distinct smile. “You two were close as children. She is a smart and battle ready lass. And yet you two deny anything closer than a friendship. Is it merely from worry over how your father hall react?”

“Not merely, no. She is my friend. She is like a sister. I could not. Nor do I feel that she has any strong affection towards me...least wise not in the romantic sort.” Legolas rubbed his shoulder. “Then again, perhaps I do not know enough of elvish women. Maybe beating you about the shoulders is how they show their sincerest desires.”

Haldir laughed under his breath and tossed his pale gold locks over one side. 

Legolas felt his heart stop. Braided into his hair was a silver ornament, a tiny one, as if it belong to a child. But there it was, tucked safely behind his ear. The stone grew heavier still, but now it warmed his belly and soul. “...long ago...perhaps not so long for you as for me...I turned to you as my guide, and guide me you did. You treated me with grace and dignity and as a friend. And I repaid it with an unwanted advance.” he blurted it out as if he could not stomach it anymore. 

“And I the senior.” Haldir seemed wearied by it. “It is the prerogative of the young to make poor choices. It is in truth. And it is the responsibility of their elders to teach them better. I do not regret one moment spent in your company, then or now. Though I will not deny your disposition has soured.”

Legolas chuffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Speak no more of this. Let it trouble your heart no more.” He put his hands to the elf mans shoulders, squeezing them tightly as he looked him over, admiring him for a long moment. He then pressed a fond kiss to Legolas's cheek, an embrace of camaraderie. “I am ever your friend, Legolas Greenleaf. This shall not pass.”

The younger elf clasped his hands and smiled, strengthened with this resolve. Legolas closed his eyes and tried to think more clearly, to let the bitterness dissolve as if sugar in water. “I meant to write you many times, to thank you for what you had done. For the return of my mother. To extend to you my utter gratitude. But I fear my grief was still fresh. And my father...” he paused. As much as he wished to disclose, he also could not betray his father by speaking out of turn. “Needed my aid and my advice. I am afraid everything else fell to the wayside.” 

“When one parent is gone, the other often needs the support of their children in order to maintain. You did right by your father to see to him. I needed no thanks, no gratitude. Your mother and I were once as you and Tauriel are. The closest of friends and companions. One day I will tell you of her grace and gentleness, of her compassionate nature. I once saw her tend to a wolf which had been lamed by a hunters trap. It came to love her dearly and would protect her. She wept when it died, being a mortal beast, though it had far outlived it's pack merely by blessing of being her companion.” Haldir had a fond memory in his voice as he spoke, as I called to it by the very mention of her. “But surely your father...”

“My father does not wish to speak of my mother. I think for him the grief will always be far too near and too harsh to hear. But I remember her. And it is good to know that others do as well.”

Haldir gave him a comforting look as they stood there, eyes cast towards the far off spire of Dol Guldur. “She would want you to be full of joy, Legolas. As she was so very often.”

“Am I not?”

“I see you are content. But this is not the same thing. I see there is a loneliness inherent in the responsibility you have undertaken. This can lead to a kind of...isolation. Those who are destined for greatness or those who have been thrust into a situation where it can thrive, often feel that they must hold themselves apart from such things as companionship, romance, even love.” Haldir's eyes were far away, beyond Dol Guldur, beyond even the furthest mountain range, as if he could spy something which not even Legolas could see. “You must never let go of that, for it is those whom you weather through the roughest oceans with, side by side, that will make for the dearest friends and the most long lived companions.”

He could hear the dream like quality in Haldir's voice and crept closer. “Glorfindel is a very lucky one, to have somebody like you that understand the complexities of love.”

His smile faded a touch, a lingering thing, as if he did not wish to let go of it entirely, but craved to hold on for as long as he dared. “I hope he did. For my part I did my very best to do so.”

“I am sorry.” Legolas said, and he meant it. “I did not mean to recall something which would bring you pain.”

“There is no pain in having loved well. And well, love may come again.”

“May I ask?”

“You may, but I may tell you no more than I know. Glorfindel has his callings. His work which must often be done, whether he will it or no, whether he would wish to live a life, even a second life, quietly among friends. He must see to his duties. We all understand that, don't we?” He chuckled smoothly and shook his head. “He imparted to me that there are dangers in this world which are rising once more. A darkness which threatens to spread to every corner of the land, and cloak all Middle Earth in shadows.” Haldir's voice dimmed, as if he could feel the longing ache of it deeply. “Another lesson, dear Legolas. Sometimes we must make the choices for others, and not ourselves.”

“I am again sorry to know you lost one so dear to you. But if what he says is true, then I wish Glorfindel luck on his quest, that he may shine light in the shadows and combat this encroaching evil.”

“I as well.” Haldir stood and stretched, cracking his neck. “I shall wake Tauriel, unless you wish to take the next watch?”

“I shall. Sleep well, Haldir.”

 

~~~

They walked through the next day, making quick progress with only the three of them moving quickly about the trees. With every mile their surroundings became more fetid and unwelcoming, as if this place bled treachery. 

“I remember this land.” Haldir said, touching the moss on the rocks. “I remember when it was green, and the air smelled of violets and the waters were sweet and clear. Something dwells here. Something far more abhorrent than a spiders lair.”

“You sense it as well?” Legolas questioned. “I thought perhaps I was imagining things. As we came upon it in Mirkwood, I could feel a nausea in my gut that refused to settle.”

“Keep those instincts. They say royalty is tied to the land, that they feel it's sickness. Reach out and you will always be assured of where suffering lies.” 

“Why then do you feel it?”

“Because I have tasted of this evil before, and I know it's flavor.” Haldir stiffened, touching his own arm wearily. “Once such a bleak and terrible thing touches you, it never really leaves.” 

“We should be cautious, more so with every step we take closer to the citadel. There is more than spiders in these woods.” Tauriel pulled an arrow from a tree, peering at the point of it. 

“Orc?” Asked Legolas.

“Goblin.”

“Well...always nice for a change of pace now and then.” Haldir took the arrow and twirled it between his thumbs.

“Do you think the spiders are working with the goblins?” Tauriel asked, curious now and perhaps a bit concerned that they had not brought more people with them.

“I doubt it. Orc may hire goblins, but they do not like one another and they dwell separately. But the spider folk? They truck with no one, make no friends, act only to feed their own unending gluttony. They'll kill an elf or a goblin, an orc or dwarf or man without concern for anything but a full belly and egg production. No. If there are spiders here, which I am sure there are, then it means the goblins must be within the inner ring, closer to Amon Lanc, so as to avoid confrontation.” Haldir sniffed the air. “They're using the spiders as a natural protection against Mirkwood.”

“They're right on our doorstep.” Fear encroached in Legolas's voice. “Do you see? The goblins drive the spiders out now and then, bringing them into our glens and ensure they keep my father too busy on the troubles within his own borders to bother with those of the outside world.” 

“In truth he never was.” Haldir sucked in his lower lip. “Forgive me. That was poorly spoken.”

“No time for that. My lord, Marchwarden...” Tauriel called to them and showed what she had discovered. A clear trail through the trees, as if dozens of the arachnids had skittered a different direction, dragging their sticky webs behind them. “They're headed back to the forests of Mirkwood.”

“They must be setting up a new nest. Or worse, returning to an old one.” Haldir frowned. “Do you hear anything?” 

“No. the air is dead silent.” None the less, they all paused, listening to the wind through the creaking trees. For a long moment, nothing could be discerned, and then a sound of fear off yelling. The trees in the distance moved, shaking back and forth by some disturbance beneath the leafy canopy.

“Sounds like a fight. In the direction the trail leads.”

“Sounds as if there are visitors in your woods beyond the eight legged ones.” Haldir stood. “Best go and see what it's about.”

“We said we would travel with you to Dol Guldur.” Legolas protested.

“That you did. And I am within sight of it now. But you must ensure that your own people are not being placed at risk. I shall send letter once I discover what is come to the citadel. I promise.” He winked at Legolas. “Fairwell, Greenleaf. It is good to know there are still friends of Middle Earth within the Greenwood.” 

“Fairwell, Haldir. I hope we will meet again, and soon.” Legolas and Tauriel took off, headed to see what had disrupted their quest. As they moved midst the trees, letting themselves be guided by the commotion that drew them onward. Legolas took once glance back, and smiled to himself once again. He could still see the silver ornament, nestled gently in that pale golden hair.


	6. Chapter 6

“A Olórin i yáressë Mentaner i Númeherui Tírien i Rómenóri, Maiaron i oiosaila Manan elyë etevannë  
Nórië i malanelyë?” 

There was a genuine comfort in letting himself sing, if only for his own sake. Elves had always taken comfort in the company of their kinfolk. They dwelt most often in kingdoms and cities of their own making, leaving only temporarily to visit the world at large. They never stayed for long in man's kingdoms, and stayed even less in the dwarvish lands. And they rarely if ever traveled alone. 

So perhaps Legolas understood the odd looks he received from men as he went about. For one part, elves had not been seen in the lands of Rhovanion for some times, the place being thick with bandits both of the entirely human variety and, if rumors were to be believed, the occasional troll raid. The former did not trouble him, humans rarely did. The latter...

Well one didn't go off adventuring in this manner if they didn't expect at least a bit of trouble. 

The town of Lee Upon the Loudwater had become a place he'd gotten familiar with. He was slowly growing used to man, their loudness, their close proximity to one another, and the absolute...quaintness they seemed to dwell in at all times. For his part he did find them to be somewhat charming. Welcoming, especially if you had coin to spend or furs to trade. On top of that, they were very curious about elves, and he found himself dispelling many rumors about his kins lifestyles and..er...tendencies.

“I...what?”

“I herd, that iffen you don watch yer babby, elves 'ill come abouts and taken them, replace em with one o their own sos you end up raisin a pointy eared waif who'll eat ch outta house and home.” The gentleman stated, obviously quite sure of what he had ascertained. His companions nodded, backing him up with what the clearly believed. “A changeling brat.”

Legolas found himself offended by the very notion that any elf would be party to such a thing! “Elves do not, nor have we ever, stolen children. We can make our own if we have a desire for them, thank you.” he said in passing to the maiden who brought him a fruity wine. 

“Do elves make children?” Asked one of the hunters, looking over curiously.

“Of course we do. Doesn't everyone?”

“Not dwarves. Dwarves grow up from rocks and just spring to life one day when the rocks get to retentive to stand still any more!”

Legolas could not help a little laughter at this joke. Men truly knew so very little about any race save their own. “I can assure you! I have known but few dwarves in my life but I do promise you they do not merely spring form the ground fully formed.” he snickered. 

“OH aye? And how do ya know that?”

Legolas took a deep drink. “Because I have met female dwarves, and if the males are itinerant, the females are downright pertinacious!” He'd gone and used too big a word, and he could see the bar patrons scrounge around for understanding of it. “Tenacious.” He amended quickly and they nodded in understanding. “But as far as elves go I promise you, we have never stolen children of any race.”

“But 'ow do elves make babbies?”

Legolas found himself turning pink, and not at all from the wine. “Er...much the same way men do...I suppose.”

“Heh. Lad you're drunk. Men don't make the babbies!” Another round of laughter went up and some of the bar maids, as well as the female patrons, shook their heads to themselves.

“Aye no. But the men sure do all the bragging.” One pretty lass with thick russet curls batted her eyelashes at Legolas. “So elves and men aren't too far off one another?”

“In some ways yes, there are many similarities. In other ways...a few differences I suppose.” He took another sip and found himself turning bright across the bridge of his nose when she leaned across table, showing the way her chemise slipped down to show off her round breasts. 

“I should very much like to see these differences.” she said in a soft voice. She has a charming splatter of freckles across her cheeks and a pretty reddish hue to her skin that reminded him of maple trees. 

“I-I doubt you would find it entertaining. Much of it discusses the long line of Atani and their creation by Illuvatar after the elves were made. I once had many books about it but I'm afraid I've brought none of them with me.” He stammered on, not quite sure what he ought to be doing in this moment. 

“Wouldn't do me much good. I can't read.” She admitted. “I can do sums though. Innkeeper trusts me with the tallies at the end of the night. Knows I can keep track a tabs and payments well.” She looked quite proud of herself, her smile showing off gap teeth which were clean and strong from between lovely lips. 

“That is good. The elves consider arithmetic to be an art. You're very clever to know it so well.”

“My names Bridgette. I know yours is Master Legolas. You come out from the woods and trade the best furs every month or so.”

“Legolas is my name yes. But I am no ones master, lady Bridgette. And truth be told, my father often scolded me for abandoning my arithmetic lessons.” He laughed a bit as her fingers gently, cautiously touched his shoulder. 

“I could teach you. Maybe you'll teach me that pretty song you was singing earlier.” 

Legolas swallowed, gazing up into her big brown eyes and returning the warm, inviting smile. He lifted a hand and touched her fingers lightly, making sure that he was not misinterpreting the invitation. Women, he had begun to discover, did not have the same coy flirtations as elvish ladies. They were more often than not quite firm about their desires, and he appreciated the directness. “I do not plan to winter here.” he said honestly. “I can not promise...well...I can not make promises.”

“Did I asked for a promise? Or did I ask for a song?”

~~~

He left the next morning in a fair mood, looking behind himself only once to admire the prim and quite content figure of the lady Bridgette as she moved about her chores for the day. They locked eyes for a moment and Legolas touched his forehead, and gave her a neat bow. She did a prim curtsy and began to giggle, walking off with her friends, clearly eager to share the story of her night spent in elvish company.

He could only hope he had in some way done his people justice.

However fond he was becoming of Lee Upon the Loudwater, Legolas found himself breathing a sigh of relief as he moved further from the clamor of man and into the soft resplendence of the woods. The sounds and scents fell behind him and he breathed deep, allowing himself to breath in his surroundings. His muscles loosened, the tension dying down in his heart. He would always be at home here, where life flowed freely. He had been so long in Mirkwood that he had forgotten how it felt to be surrounded by green things and the smell of fresh water. And with the knowledge that some goodness remained in the world was born a desire to see it protected. He could not bare to see it go as the Greenwood had gone. 

And so the people of Lee Upon the Loudwater need not know that he spend his days and nights hunting the trolls that plagued them so often. Legolas did not want to trouble them over such things. He disliked the possibility of these simple and kindly folk thinking they might owe him something rather than merely trading for his furs. Being an elf, Legolas could not bare to kill the forest creatures himself. But the trolls often left them behind after they had finished with the meat. It felt more right to make something of them rather than leave then to rot in the woods. 

Legolas had been born to the palace of Thranduil in the realm of Eryn Galen. He had grown up among the courtiers and nobility of the elvish people and been well cared for in all ways. So it was at times strange to think he found himself content in the small home he had made for himself here in the Trollshaw forests. It had taken him nearly six months of work to make this place, for he dared not destroy the beauty of the fine birch glen in order to make himself shelter. Born a prince-ling with servants and maids, he had taken pride in building this with his own two hands. With cob and river rocks, with time and effort, he was able to call this tree house his own. Was it so wrong to be happy to see it again?

He began checking the stores for the coming months. The winds had turned early and there was a chill in them that boasted an early winter. A hefty supply of wood to keep the hearth and home warm, plenty of furs to keep the bedding cozy, dried vegetables and spices, not to mention many earthenware jars stuffed with pickled fruits drenched in honey.   
And of course, what kind of Mirkwood elf would he be if he did not have plenty of fine wine in kegs to keep the body supple and well fortified?

A stiff breeze traveled through the forest and something on the wind caught his nose, an unpleasant smell drifted in from the north and he turned his nose up. The den he'd cleared out last week perhaps? Goodness knows troll stench took forever to dissipate. He'd debated lighting their bedding on fire but then everyone for miles would have been forced to contend with the rancid smell of burnt hair. 

Most of the trolls wound avoided the lake during the harsh winter months, not being fond of the frigid cold winds that came off it. There would be some fuss from the more hardy and stalwart Olog-hai, but he had traps to warm him long before anyone approached. This was not his first winter here. 

Legolas climbed up to the roof, looking out over the tree line for any sign of something large and rather stupid tramping through the forest. Of this he saw none, but as he peered closely, he could see someone with light feet and a graceful cadence moving among the highest branches with great ease. A faint hope blossomed in his chest. It had been years since he had any word of Tauriel. Her heart had been given and broken so quickly, and she had not returned to Mirkwood, even after his father had receded her exile. For a while, he had looked for his errant friend, following her tracks for weeks. But in the end it had come to him that Tauriel did not want to be found. In her grief, she wished for loneliness. All he could do was grant this to her and hope that one day their paths might cross again.

But as to whom from the elvish folk was wandering the Trollshaw a few days before the first snows set in, Legolas was at a loss. Night was approaching, and if this was indeed one of his kin, he would not let the evening pass without offering a warm shelter and a fine drink. Besides, this was an opportunity. It had been a very long time since he had heard any news of the kingdoms of the elves...or of his father.

He moved through the trees, careful where to set his feet. It had been a dry autumn and even the most fleet footed elf could crack a branch if it was brittle enough. He skipped over the ones and swung from the top of one birch to another. Within minuets he had gained on his visitor, and in his eagerness to see who he had discovered, he called out. “Mae g'ovannen!”

Clearly the fellow had not realized he was coming! The elf paused in his run and turned.

Legolas saw a familiar flash of pale golden hair and misstep, his foot lighting upon a dried out branch! “Orro!” He stumbled and slipped down, slamming into branches as he fell. He uttered several curses he had learned from the people on the Lee before a hand reached out and grasped his arm tightly. Legolas found his feet under him and managed to right himself as Haldir lifted him up. 

“Man agoreg, Legolas?” He said with a bold grin, his teeth flashing at the elf. “Why is it every time we meet I seem to be rescuing you?”

 

~~~

A good red wine, a few cups of crisp apple cider, honey, lemon and a cinnamon stick made for a fine drink as the winds picked up. There was thunder in the distance, rain which would turn into sleet if the temperature continued to drop. It marked the first winter storm and Legolas was glad of the company, even if it had caught him unawares. He served the both of them a large mug of the mulled cider and sat down across from Haldir, lifting his toast. “Savo 'lass a lalaith.” 

“Savo 'lass a lalaith.” Haldir returned the blessing and took a deep drink. He licked his lips, enjoying the citrus and honey taste and looked around at the cozy tree slung cottage. “I had not expected to find Legolas of Mirkwood here of all places. But then no one seems to know what happened to you after that business with the dwarves and the dragon.” 

“That is because I did not want them to know.” Legolas sat forward, eyes cast on the fire. “I could no longer sit in Mirkwood and be content to dwell in ageless seclusion while the rest of the world marched onward to it's doom. My father bade me seek out the ranger known as Strider, but either he can not be found or does not wish to be found. I have had no luck either way.”

“I have heard this name from time to time in my own travels. He is a Ranger from the North, difficult to find even if he does ever come in from the wilds. I would be happy to help point you in his direction, but I am afraid it will have to wait until winter has passed. There is a foul storm on the wind and it threatens snow.” 

“I would not keep you from your duty. You were moving through the woods here at a fast pace. On some grand mission for Lady Galadriel?” he asked, unable to assuage his curiosity. 

“Returning from a rather less than grand mission. I had hoped to reach her before the seasons turned but I was delayed. Unfortunately I can not speak as to the nature of my errand, though I do not wish to appear rude.”

“I understand.” Legolas offered. “When it comes to it I would not ask anything you did not offer willingly. “

“I hate to beg a boon of you, but I am afraid I must ask that, when dawn comes, if you would point me towards the nearest town. I will find lodging there until the thaw of spring...”

“If that is your wish I will certainly provide. Lee Upon the Loudwater is perhaps a days travel from here. But that being offered, were it to please you, I have plenty of stores here. My home is small but warm and comfortable. And if you do not mind hunting a few trolls with me now and again, I can promise lively entertainment.” Legolas let himself grin winningly, trying to convince the elf to take his hospitality. The cold months could be the most isolating, and even an elf had difficulty traveling in a blizzard. 

“Well that is the most generous offer I have had in some long time.” Haldir looked over and Legolas could tell what he saw. One bed, not a very large bed at that, a sense of anxiety that hung thick between them created by it's mere presence in the room. “I would not want to intrude...”

“Haldir...” His voice was calm and soothing, his blue eyes fixed with ease on his mentor of old. “If it does not bother me, I see no reason why it should bother you. I did not collect pillows and pallets merely for the sake of aesthetic.” He smacked the thick wool stuffed cushion under himself. “There are many furs and, should it grow cold, I have no objection to sharing blankets with you. Tauriel and I did such a thing and it did not trouble us over much.”

“I could not steal you bed from you.”

“You do not steal it. Or do you think me so far removed from the hospitality and good manners of my own people that I would deny a guest the best I have to offer?” Legolas shook his head and took another long drink from his mug. “At the very least for tonight, sleep there. In the morning we will see how bad it is and decide what is to be done.” He was banking on the Lothlorien elf being too exhausted to argue with him, and he was right. Even in his beauty, Legolas could see Haldir's exhausted eyes and the weary slump of his shoulders. 

“I have not the strength nor will to argue.”

“Good. Then let me heat the water and we can both wash off.” He pulled a cauldron over to the hearth, setting it close enough to let the water get warm. He checked the windows and doors, drawing the curtains tightly to help keep the last bit of wind from entering. He hesitated as he saw steam escaping the pot, and thought back to his embarrassment centuries past. “I shall wait outside if you wish to bathe first.”

“I would not make you wait out in the cold on my account.” Haldir turned his back and picked up the pot, setting it on a blanket and searching out washcloths. Elves were fanatical about cleanliness. They were never without at least a few toiletries, including a bar of oils, beeswax and coarse sand which helped to clean dirt and sweat from the body. Sure enough he found them and laid them on a small table before sitting down on a blanket. “Let us not tarry. I was exhausted when I had the good luck of finding you and in truth your drink has given me the last potion I needed to assure sleep.”

Legolas began to undress himself, and Haldir followed his lead. He looked. How could he not? For a moment he admired the Marchwardens fine muscles. His broad shoulders, his well formed hips, his long hair cascading over his shoulders. A little spurt of heat captured his heart as he saw the silver ornament glitter back at him, and yet...

No longer did he find himself loosing breath and though in the presence of Haldir. He was not calm, especially not as the trousers were removed and he was given a quite favorable view from the backside! None the less, he did not feel so awestruck and befuddled as he once had. In fact that now seemed long ago, the actions and thoughts of a rash youth who lacked both self control and experience. He thanked Haldir for handing him a cloth and dipped it in the lovely warm water. He lathered it up and began to wash himself clean. 

They scrubbed in silence for a few minuets, back to back, respecting a bit of privacy. It was not common for elves to face away from one another in such situations. Bathhouses in Mirkwood and Lorien were public places, making it more efficient to keep the rich mineral waters hot constantly rather than trying to create and individual plumbing system from house to house. Legolas had bathed with others since he was old enough to be taken to a bathhouse. But given the history between the two of them, there was a different sense of propriety present. 

Still...Legolas peeked.

And though he would feel guilty about it for many years to come, Haldir peeked too.

What he saw was not the brazen and conflicted young man who had kissed him out of misplaced infatuation two thousand years ago. Legolas had grown into his lanky physique, his frame now showing a reflection of long hours spent balancing amid the treetops and arms made strong from stringing a bow. 

~He is not a child anymore.~ Haldir thought to himself and immediately cursed himself for such thoughts! Not a child perhaps, but none the less... ~What? Is it wrong to recognize he had grown? He has experienced much since you last saw him. Lost much, sacrificed more. He has sought his own ends, trying to live his own life now. Perhaps it is time to let go of the idea that you are still his tutor and master in things and treat him like an adult.~ Haldir peeked again and shook his head. He could give some blame to his own lack of companionship as of late. Glorfindel's absence had left a deep emptiness in his heart, and yet he had known it would come eventually. Elves like Glorfindel were not meant to dwell contentedly in hearth and home for their long years. Duty called, and when it bid them they could not refuse. Haldir knew it was unlikely that he would ever see his lover again, and so in voice he had bid him farewell and tried to be proud of him. But in his heart there was still an ache that refused to abate, even after so much time. But that was not a burden to put at Legolas's feet. He would not draw back the furs and offer to share the bedbox unless it were only for cold and company.

He dried himself off and picked up his trews and long shirt, dressing quickly. As he turned, Legolas was just finishing brushing his hair and plaiting it back to keep it out of his face. “Now then, I must ask again, I will be just as comfortable upon the pallets if you wish it. I did not come here to steal a bed from a friend.”

“And I say again you can not steal that which has been offered.” The younger elf countered, slipping back into his own clothing to give some extra heat. Elves did not grow cold easily, and the hearth helped, but the bitter cold was creaking in the cob around them. He yawned and stretched, shaking his limbs as he pulled the pillows around his body. “Tomorrow we might clean that clothing of yours. “I do not mean to give offense, my friend. But you must have been traveling for many many many days without time for food or rest...or bathing.”

Haldir snorted. “One day you will be forced onto a long journey and see how much time you have to spare for laundry.” He pulled up the thick furs and sighed. Legolas wasn't wrong. He'd been sleeping in the trees, traveling at day light and stopping only long enough to eat and then moving again. He regretted that his mission was being forestalled even now, but he had not the strength in him to push forward. Once he had been given the chance to sleep and regain his will, he would have to connect with her ladyship quickly and give her the information he had recovered.

“Are you comfortable?”

“I could be wrapped in silks on a down sheet with the fluffiest pillows on Middle Earth and not be more comfortable than I am now.” Haldir responded drowsily. “You are a gracious host my friend.” 

“Good. Than get some sleep. Losto vae, Haldir.”

“Losto vae, Legolas.” 

~~~

Haldir was a welcome companion. 

It had been ten years since he had left his home for the world of men in search of the one named Strider. In that time he visited the Lee Upon the Loudwater every few months, and while he had found it friendly enough, to sit and talk with a fellow elf was of far greater comfort. Winter threatened and made good on it's promise to be terrible and full of violent winds which battered his tiny home, but Legolas did not feel it, not with this renewed companionship. He woke the next morning to find Haldir sitting up in the furs, drawing deep breaths and letting them out in controlled meditation. Legolas rose with great care, not wishing to disturb what was clearly an ongoing communication. He set the kettle on the fire and went about preparing eggs and bread for their breakfast. 

Half a candlemark later, Haldir drew in another great breath, his stomach sucking in so deep that his ribs could be seen before he opened his eyes and gave a relieved sigh. “Forgive me. I did not mean to wake you.”

“You did not. You were very curteous.” Legolas set a cup of tea in front of him with a restorative added to it to help bring him back. “I know it is none of my business, but your information must have been very important for the Lady of Light to have reached out so very far in order to avoid delaying it's delivery.” 

“Indeed. It took much strength form her to accomplish this.” Haldir sipped at the tea and seemed relieved by it. “But it does ease my burden a great deal. I have told her where I am and who I am with. She wishes you well and is glad to hear that you are safe. She had told me not to risk travel for the time being. It appears my escape was not as stealthy as I had though.” The marchwarden managed to look quite sheepish indeed as he gazed at Legolas. “I am afraid they may be looking for me.” 

“Well it wouldn't be the first time trouble has been brought through to me.” He shrugged as if it were of no consequence. “Though perhaps it might be of some use if I knew what might be headed towards us.”

A noise crept up from Haldir's through, as if he were quite unsure as to how much to let his friend know. Legolas did respect this fact. Haldir was bound to his ladies service and it would be forsworn to disobey her orders, which he would never do. Yet he had brought Legolas into this mess, intentionally or not. At the very least he could ensure he was prepared. 

“After we parted some time ago, I traveled to Dol Guldur as I had intended. There I happened upon an army of orcs and wargs and goblin mercenaries amassing for an attack. This I had suspected, but I took it upon myself to lie in waiting and see what occurred. I took great pains to conceal my presence there, for I suspected something more terrible than any raiding party.” He thanked Legolas for the food and wrapped the furs about himself tightly. “My efforts bore fruit, I may tell you that much. But more over I encountered someone I had no expected to see. Mithrandir was there...”

“Mithrandir?” Legolas sat forward, surprised to hear that name mentioned He had heard of the wizard. Few had not though it could be said that fewer still knew which of the rumors of him were true and which were exaggerated or even simply false. Still, every great tale did seem to involve him at some point. 

“Indeed. It seems he was there for the same purpose as I but had done so with considerably less stealth. I could not afford to let him see me, but I took my leave and ensured that those who might be better placed than I could offer their assistance in his rescue. Seems he was aiding a troop of dwarves in their quest to take back the throne of Erebor.” Haldir held up his hands. “As Wizards apparently do.” 

“It pleases me to know he is well. Though we have not met I know he counciled my father once many ages ago.”

“I had discovered what I went to Dol Guldur to find out, and my lady had another assignment for me. I traveled far from here, to follow up on her many suspicions and the activities of those who would ally themselves against this world and it's fate. Again, I can not tell you everything. But it was on my travels that I met with a Chieftain of the Dúnedain, the one you seek, known as Strider. I was bade keep an eye on him for a time and help guide him towards...well...to where he needed to go.” Haldir chewed on the cheese and seemed quite out of breath. “I was headed home when I was set upon by a pack of bats and goblins. The filthy bastards have been tracking me for leagues. I had thought to loose them in the forests. The trolls here keep their own allegiance and have little tolerance for goblins skittering about. I had hoped they would not follow.”

“I have lain traps about, though those are meant to deter trolls. Goblins are craftier creatures by far. They will see them and know how to avoid them.” Legolas clasped his hands together and touched his fingers to his lips. “The storm may last for a few days. That will give us some cover. But once it breaks, if they are still out there it may pose a threat. I have spent many winters in these woods. They are not easy to traverse even for those of us who can walk with light feet upon the drifts. Goblins will be forced to trudge through it and that will leave a very obvious trail.” He looked towards the window and listened to the winds which buffeted their shared shelter. “The moment the storm breaks we will lay new alarms. I have made myself known among these trees, they will listen to me a little if I speak. They may give us the advantage we need when the time comes.”

“What of your friends in Lee?”

“I would rather not involve them in elvish problems. They are as of yet unaware of what it is I do here. I would rather they remain that way. They need think of me as nothing more than an off elf who comes in to trade furs now and again.”

Haldir's eyes held a spark of admiration. “No such desires to be the bold and glorious hero?”

“Heroism is vastly overrated. One does what one must and I am content enough to do my part.” 

“As you will then. You know these woods better than I. As such I will follow your lead.”

Legolas felt his chest hurt quite suddenly! It was a strong, breath taking sensation that made his skin feel as though it was one too tightly about his flesh. “I do not look to give you orders!”

“And why should you not? Have I mistaken and this is not Prince Legolas whom I have happened across?” Haldir rose and began to dress himself properly, wanting the layers badly to help keep himself warm. Elves could be quite hardy when the time came for it, but they were no fonder of cold weather than any other race. 

“I have not lived as a prince for a decade now.”

“Why should that matter? A king who requires a throne and a crown in order to command respect and loyalty is not a very fine king.” The elder of the two chuckled to himself. “I could tell you stories of your father when he and I were young. Stories he would not thank me for revealing to you. HA! Perhaps during our winter together there will be time for such things. But I watched your father, I was with him in the wild lands of the North, when he commanded his fathers armies and battled the fire-drakes. I stood beside him during the Battle of Dagorlad when he took command after his father fell in battle. And I will tell you this, your father Thranduil, son of Orophur, raised his sword, and his people followed his lead.” Haldir smiled in some fond memory long past and nodded. “You are his son, Legolas. And if you command me, I will listen. I will also not let you command me to do anything stupid, so there is that to consider.”

He could not help his own snorting laughter as it rang out. He clapped Haldir on the shoulder before they continued to dress against the chill. “Have you heard news of my father?”

“I have. I speak frankly with you. The business with the dragon and what followed was a blow to your fathers pride. At the funeral of Thorin Oakenshield, he presented himself with the elfish blade, the Orcist, and laid it upon his grave. For his part, I do not think Thranduil ever saw himself as an enemy of the dwarves. He saw himself as doing what was needed to protect his people and return what was by right his. But I am a poor choice to speak on your father's mind.” 

“No. I think you are right. My father is proud, often cold, but not cruel. Though his actions were often a mystery to me I have never known him to act without reasons. Even if his own council was the only one he kept.” Legolas sighed to himself. He missed his father. He missed his home land. He missed Tauriel. But he was not ready to return as of yet. There was still something he needed. Something he had yet to find. “I will share what I know of these woods with you, Haldir. But I will not forgo your advice should you see fit to offer it.” 

“The storm is beginning to die down. I can hear the winds gathering in the distance.”

“Then now is the time.” Legolas took his bow and arrows, and his elvish blades. It gave him no small amount of pleasure to see Haldir's smile grow.

“I had wondered if you'd gotten them.”

“I have treasured them. A finer set of daggers could not be found in all the Middle Earth. I am glad to have them.” He patted the leather sheaths as they opened the door. It was still early morning, and the grey overcast was ideal for goblins, who thrives in their dark skulking. “We must move along the mountain side but avoid the deep paths. The local trolls use the caverns for shelter during the winter. The sunlight on the snow is loathsome to them and drives them deep underground. But it is my suspicion that your followers might keep closer to the entryways so as to avoid the locals.” Legolas and Haldir headed out into the snow. “Do you wish them delayed or eradicated?”

“If we leave them be they will tell others that I was here and more ill be sent to harry me as I return home.” 

“Eradicated then.” Legolas took to the high trees and looked out over the horizon. Sure enough he could spot a campfire in the distance, coming from the mouth of a cave where he knew he had evicted the previous tenants. “There. It would seem these goblin pursuers are far more resilient than we took them for.” 

“Well then...” Haldir pulled his swords and spun them easily, ready for a good fight to warm his blood. “...the hunt is on!”

~~~

It took them hours to scrub the inky black blood from their leathers. It was in all truth to the point where Legolas worried they would have to trash them and find new ones. But with a few tricks from Haldir's vast and arrayed knowledge, they managed well enough. Elves took no joy in death as orcs did, but there was a grim satisfaction in having wiped the foul creatures from this land and kept it clean. 

Legolas found himself particularly irritated by the bats. “As if the goblin blood wasn't bad enough. Bat offal?” he sniffed and made a repulsed face.

“Better to let it dry and chip away at it. Wetting it only makes soak into the leathers.” Haldir tossed him a blunted knife. “Use linseed oil after to get the suppleness back and not loose color.” 

“My gratitude.” He began to scrape it off, putting the nasty substance into an old cloth as he continued to work. “Why do the tales never talk about this part? Heh? There might be fewer delusions of grandeur in the world if people knew what the clean up was like.”

“Doesn't make for a good story I suppose.” Haldir shook his head and rubbed the leathers thoroughly, doing his best to waterproof them again. He wanted to tell Legolas how well he had done, and yet he did not wish to seem as a teacher offering his student praise. Legolas was a child no more. “I was proud to fight beside you.” he offered instead. “It seems to me you were made for combat.”

“I have often wondered.” He did not disagree. “I know my lessons well enough. My father taught me very well. Yet my heart has always been in the field. It feels stagnant, like a river poorly dammed, to stand in a palace and send others to do what I will not. This...drudgery...at least it feels productive. I feel that I have done something. Small perhaps. I doubt anyone will make ballads of our deeds today. But to the people of Lee Upon the Loudwater, we have done something great, even if they never know it. And I feel good in this. I feel that this is as it should be.”

Haldir was silent for a while, ruminating over how best to phrase his next words. “It is not my place to tell you how to be the king you will one day be. Only you can make such choice. And indeed it may be that you do not yet know what manner of king you will be. I can't imagine anyone knows until the time comes. Your father sought to consolidate and protect his realm in a time of uncertainty. Perhaps you will choose to be a king who lends his aid to those who need it the most.” 

“Perhaps I will not be a king at all.”

“...perhaps.” Haldir set his boots up near the fire to dry the oil into them a bit. “It has been a long day.”

“It has indeed.”

“The cold is in my bones tonight. If it would do you well, I though we might ease one another's suffering for a bit. I have some medicinal ointments that, when rubbed into the body, shall help numb the wounds and soreness. Not to mention stave off the cold.”

Again, his chest felt far too tight and for a moment he could not breath right. He pushed himself to smile at Haldir, hoping it did not look as strained and forced as he was sure it must. Was he still a youth, to behave so awkwardly? Did they not just stand side by side, slashing like a pair of bladed dancers against a goblin hoard? Why should he sit there with a dry mouth and a shuddering breath. “I would be most grateful for your aid.” he managed and put his leathers up. He fingers hesitated on the hem of his shirt for a moment as he watched Haldir take a pot of the ointment and set it next to the fire to melt. He tried not to shake. He was shaking, but he tried very hard not to. 

Haldir's hands trembled as if he were a young man again! This was nothing so unusual. He had rubbed the aching backs and wounded flesh of many elves after battle. It was common courtesy to offer such assistance. But as he turned back around and witnessed the strength of Legolas's back, the proud and taunt muscles of an elf in their prime, he could not help a tingling in his body. One he was not sure if he felt comfortable with or not. 

The ointment was strong, and despite his nerves, Legolas could not resist a low moan as Haldir's strong hands began to rub it into his shoulders with practiced fingers. “Ah. That...that is very good.” 

“Ni 'lassui. Sometime you should come to Lorien. The creation of it is unique to the plants grown there. I would be happy to teach you how it is made.” Haldir continued to rub down his neck, flexing his fingers along the sublime flesh, closing his eyes and firmly thinking of the precise details of how he had made the ointment. Anything to distract himself from the very insistent feelings climbing up between his thighs. 

Legolas was having less luck on his end. Which was not to say he was not trying with all his might to resist the temptation which was working to help him with his sore muscles. The dull ache of spending hours in the cold on top of fighting goblins was not conducive to any continuation of physical activity. The unguent was doing an excellent job of numbing his skin. Despite his best efforts, Legolas felt himself starting to grow drowsy. “Haldir?” 

“Yes, Legolas?”

“It is going to be very cold tonight.”

“Yes I am sure it is.”

“In the interest of ensuring we do not grow cold, perhaps it would be permissible to share the bedbox.” He could hear the elf's pause, his thoughts swimming in a sea of uncertainty. He gazed up with his own winning smile. “And perhaps because I lied about the pallets. They are not nearly as comfortable as I had imagined them to be.” 

Haldir balked in surprise, then began to laugh. He continued his massage with more earnest movements now, the tension of the room broken. “Aye then. I would be happy to share a bed with my host. It is simply poor manners!” 

When the rub was done, Legolas returned the favor, his eyes closed as he sought out the tension and knots that riddled Haldir's back. His own tension seemed to seep away as he listened in strange gratification to know he was doing his friend a fair amount of good. When the patient healing was done, both elves found themselves crawling into the bedbox with exhaustion written on their faces. 

At first they lay back to back, a sufficient amount of furs stuffed between them to avoid making a choice that could not be revoked. Legolas, shuffled here and there, not as comfortable as he wished to be. It was not that there was not enough room, or that his bed fellow was hogging the furs. 

“Haldir?”

“Yes?”

“It is perhaps much colder than I had thought.”

“Indeed it is.”

Legolas turned over and pulled the furs from between them. He crooked his body up against the elder elfs back, pausing only when Haldir stiffened. “I only thought this would help us warm one another. If it is not to your liking...”

“It is in fact much warmer pressed together.” Haldir pushed back, letting himself be tucked in comfortably. “Thank you.” He rested his head on the pillows. “Good night Legolas.”

“Good night Haldir.” 

~~~

The weeks passed far quicker than Legolas would have liked, but then there was much to do in them. They busied themselves with clearing much of the trolls in the area. He took Haldir to visit Lee Upon the Loudwater for the winter solstice and they drank and caroused with the people there. And when the night were very cold, they shared the bedbox together for the sake of warmth and company. 

And there was a silent want there, but they were not ready yet. Perhaps one still saw the other in a specific light, and that could not be tarnished even with this new found respect. But as the snow thawed and the first warbles of a spring bird began to crawl over the land, Haldir had a promise to keep. 

“When last I heard word of Strider, he was in the lands outside of Gondor on an errand for the Mithrandir.” Haldir spoke as he pakced his newly bought horse. “If you do not mind a brief stop in Lorien, I would be quite pleased to guide you the rest of the way and help with the introductions. The rangers are not exactly trustful of others, though Stride himself seems quite familiar with elves.”

“I have long wished to see Lorien and to give my greeting to the Lady Galadirel. I have seen her but briefly and while there is no bloodline between us, her name is well known to anyone with any sense of elvish history.”

“Are you ready then to leave this place?”

Legolas looked back at the cabin, the place he had called home for nigh on ten years. He has a sense that he would miss it to some extent, and yet he knew the time had come. He could not dwell here forever in his own indignation, not if he truly wished to make a difference in this wide world. “I am ready. We should make good headway if we...”

A horse was moving a a sedate pace towards them, and even from a distance they could tell that it was an elf of Lothlorien, the red and silver standard giving them away quite ostensibly. Legolas was stunned to hear Haldir curse under his breath, the merry glimmer at his eyes darkening. 

“Here I thought I was finally to return home.” Haldir looked the visitor up and down with a sharp eye. “And it seems I have been so long gone that home has been sent to find me.”

“I was not sent, I offered my services. Should it not be me who comes to speak with my errant brother?” The resemblance was striking! It was as if Legolas was now looking upon a younger, more fresh faced Haldir before his very eyes. The Lorien elf turned to him and bowed properly astride his horse, a hand to his chest in salute to a member of a noble house. “Forgive me Prince Legolas. I do not mean to be rude. But I come with a new assignment for my brother from the Lady of Lorien.” His accent when speaking the common tongue was very strong, as if he were not used to speaking it frequently. 

“I need give no pardon to a man on his mistresses bidding. But may I ask who it is that I speak to?”

Haldir did not look thrilled, but he accepted the scroll with a quiet dignity. “This is one of my younger brothers, Rúmil, and a fellow marchwarden under my command. One to whole I thought I had made it quite clear that he was responsible for guard of Lorien during my extended absence.”

Like anyone who had been scolded before, Legolas's eyebrow rose and he avoided meeting Rúmil's eyes as if to give him some measure of dignity.

“Orophin and I stand at the ready to defend our borders. However when the Lady Galadirle commands, is there any who would consider themselves above her behest?” Rúmil managed with some of his brother's dignity. 

“I am at her ladies bidding. But I have made a promise to me friend, to guide him to the lands around Gondor and help him find the one called Strider.”

“Her ladyship said as much. She offered me in your stead, as this business is most pressing and can not wait.” He turned against to Legolas. “If you majesty would have me.”

His heart sank, but it seemed in poor taste, not to mention pouty and childish, to demand it be Haldir when he could not forsake his lady. “I would be glad of you, for the journey to Gondor is long, and having Haldir through the winter has helped me realize how greatly I miss companionship.”

“I am afraid we shall not be traveling to Gondor. The man you are searching for has gone to Mirkwood on behalf of Mithrandir, preforming an errand at his behest. If it is Stride you seek then I am afraid I shall be escorting you to your homeland, Prince Legolas.” Rúmil seemed to have knowledge of just how awkward this had suddenly become. 

“I would prefer it greatly if you were to return to the woods. But as it stands I have not the command to make you do so.” Haldir stated as if to ensure his brother knew his position without a single doubt. “Legolas, I entrust him to your capable care.” He smirked a bit as his brother stiffened in the saddle and managed to look affronted by this charge. “He has never been outside Lorien before. I fear he will be easily distracted.”

Legolas smiled, mounting his steed easily. “I was looking forward to the trip with you. Perhaps one day we might actually have the time to spend.”

“Time is indeed a sparse commodity these days.” Haldir gave them both a brief salute before readying to depart. “Farewell, Legolas. Farewell, brother. Take care of yourselves.” He kicked the mount into a canter and took off into the woods, headed in the direction of his next assignment. 

Legolas turned about to see that Rúmil was looking at his with disguised curiosity, as if measuring him by some unknown standard. “Why do you stare?”

“I was simply wondering. I do not mean to be rude by it. But now that I see you, well...it explains much.”

“It explains very little to me.” He said shortly, no sure what Haldir's younger brother could mean by such a statement. :Would you care to elaborate?”

“I would not, Prince. The Lorien elves may be known for their sense of gossip, but even I have enough common sense not to speak when it is not my place to do so. Still...” he looked over his shoulder and when he turned back around, it was with a vengefully impish grin. “I can see why he never takes off the token you gave him.”

Legolas felt his heart drop down into the very pit of his stomach and spent the next several hours hiding his face in his cloak, using the early spring chill as an excuse to cover himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Dwarves. 

Would he never be spared from the company of dwarves? They seemed to occupy far too much space in his life. Though to be fair, one was a fair amount more tolerable than twelve had been. And while they might share some of the stature, Legolas found himself growing quickly fond of the Hobbits, especially sweet Merry, who never seemed to have enough of a grasp of the situation to be properly frightened. Yet even he seemed to feel the keen sorrow in the woods tonight, for they all of them travel under a weighty mourning. 

Gandalf had been lost to them.

It was no surprise for the wizard to come and go as it pleased him to do so. They knew better to question his motivations for by now they all knew the wisdom he held. But there was no returning from a Balrog of Morgoth, nor the deep dark plunge through which he had fallen, saving their lives with his own valiant sacrifice. The loss brought a heaviness to their shoulder, a sadness to their hearts which they had no time to give proper mourning. As they escaped the hateful atmosphere of Moria, goblins and orcs took to their trail, and it was only now that they were beginning to gain some distance between themselves and their pursuers. 

He could feel the cold in the air and though he did not fear orc or goblin, fouler things roamed the world freely, unfettered by the chains and cages which once bound them. With their master's rise of power their own had grown stronger. Now the Nazgûl rode them, searching for the treasure they carried. He did not like feeling so exposed as they did now. The river of Celebrant guided them, but it also ensured that they were followed, their enemies certain that they would keep to it's snaking path. 

Legolas was leading them to Lorien. He only hoped they would make it that far. Galadriel's power was known, even to the agents of the enemy. He would not trespass in her realm, not while he was still weak and formless. They would be safe within her borders, at least for a time. Besides, with Gandalf gone, the lady's wisdom and advice would be invaluable to them. 

 

“Legolas.” 

He turned to Aragorn's side, hanging back as they let Boromir and Gimli take the lead. “Why do you call me for?”

“I need you to scout ahead. And behind. And all around if truth be told. I have not your senses but I smell a foulness in the air.” The bedraggled looking Dunedain spoke, but though he told Legolas to be watchful of their surroundings, it was Boromir his eyes did not leave. 

“Indeed, one knows not from where danger will rise. I will keep a watchful eye at all times.” He said and took to the branches. It would certainly not hurt to ensure they were not followed too closely, but he had taken Aragorn's meaning well. He bore no personal animosity to Boromir. Indeed one would have to be a fool not to see the nobility of his heart. He fought valiantly to protect the halflings in the mines, risking his own life as a true warrior would. But as they drew closer to the borders of Lorien, his objections were duly noted.

Like many, Boromir distrusted the motives of Galadirel. He wished them to take the ring south and make for Osgiliath, where it might be used to defend the border between Mordor and Gondor. He wished to protect his people. Men had done wicked things from far worse intentions that the desire to protect those they loved and had sworn to serve. Legolas did not deny Boromir his stout heart with strong arm. But like Aragorn, he could sense a festering in the mans soul. Legolas vowed to be wary of him, lest they find their enemy already among them. Yet it would hurt him grievously to find this to be true. 

He took himself higher up and looked behind. Far off in the distance he could see the pinpricks of light and hear the gnashing of teeth and clashing of orcish steel. By his reckoning they were leagues away. But it was still too close for comfort. If they dared stop to take rest, they would awaken with blades in their bellies. Legolas swung down upon the ground, landing so lightly that the dear halflings jumped to realize he was now in front of them. He could not help a smile reserved only for them, but it vanished quickly when Aragorn caught his eye. “We must move quickly. If we linger they will catch us.”

“The halflings can not keep up at such a pace. We must find somewhere to bed down or hide for the night.” Boromir offered, and what was worse is that his concerns were sincere. The hobbits were not used to this as of yet. Legolas could see the exhaustion and sadness in their eyes.

“Then we must carry them.” He countered. “If we stop we will die and all will be for naught. We are within two days of Lorien, one if travel through the night. Once within the borders they will not dare harry us furthur.”

“Can you be so sure her ladyship will be so welcoming? I have heard tales of an elf witch who invades the minds of men and ensnares them in her web of treachery.” Boromir insisted, seeming as though it concerned him to merely speak such a thing aloud. As if it would draw her attention. 

“There are no witches among the elves.” Legolas reminded him, trying not to sound to offended by the notion. “Galadriel is a noble lady and a powerful one at that. We will need her aid.”

“My father a powerful lord and will need ours. If we could go to Gondor from here we could strike out at Mordor from a position of strength with the entire army of Gondor at our backs...”

“Never mind that Sauron would see us coming and pit all his forces against us. As it is, we are wasting time by discussing it here.” Aragorn countered him and looked at the worried hobbits. “We will continue onward to Lorien.”

“It is ill council.” Boromir grumbled, but offered his back to young Merry none the less. “Come little one. I'll put my shield on your back to keep you safe.”

“Are we still going to Lorien? I want to see the witch elf queen.” He said with wide eyes and a sense of excitement to him.

“There are no...tch.” Legolas sighed to himself as Boromir took off, trudging with determination through the underbrush. Aragorn clapped a hand on his shoulder with a calming air. Legolas could see Gimli looking up at him. “I hope you do not expect me to carry you.”

“An elf, carry a dwarf?” He grumbled, his mustache twitching with irritation. “Your wee spindly legs would snap under the might of my muscles!” 

Legolas turned his back, but could not resist a little smile as he bent a knee to Pippin. “I can take you if you do not fear heights. I must keep to the trees to scout the way ahead.”

“I don't fear tall things.” He said assuredly, looking up into the canopy. “And I might well like to see things from above for once, stead-a-looking up at everyones jaw.”

Legolas's eyes brightened. He left Sam and Frodo to Gimli and Aragorn, both of whom would keep their sword arms at the ready to defend them. They moved more swiftly now, carrying to hustling their friends along, and by dawn the torches were but distant yellow pricks of light like stars in the sky. Legolas felt a weight come off his chest when he cast his eyes before them and saw the tall trees and blue light of Lorien. “We are near!” he called out, coming down to meet with them. “We are near.”

“Good. Perhaps once within the borders we might rest?” Frodo asked of them, though he seemed shy to do so. For five days they had trekked without ceasing. It was one thing for a Dunedain, an elf, a dwarf and even a warrior of men to do this. But the Shire folk were sweet and darling and used to their comforts. They would give out if they pressed much further on them. 

“Yes. Once well within her borders we will make camp and sleep and eat.” Aragorn promised them. He had been the one to drive them hard, to push them to walk even when their hardy feet were worn. It had needed to be done, though it hurt him to do so. 

The moment they passed beyond the veil, it was as if the dread of orc attacks had left them. The somber mood of Lothlorien was better met, and for a moment they seemed to let themselves bask in it. The trees themselves seemed to sing, their branches swaying gently in a calm breeze, allowing the fears to be washed from their minds. Here was Lothlorien, where the leaves did not fall and all was silver and light. Here was the supreme power of the lady Galadriel in all her might and wisdom. 

“Will we truly be safe here?” Sam asked, ever the skeptic, which to be sure had it's uses. “It seems strange that only a few feet away lies certain death which the passing of a few bushes makes for salvation.”

“Evil can not walk here without great difficulty.” Legolas informed him. “It is said that Sauron himself would have to come, baring the one ring, in order to stand against her.”

“If ever there were something to make me sure of this woman being a witch, that alone would be reason enough.” Gimli grunted, rubbing his nose irritably. “Stay close, master hobbit.” 

“I shall, but it would seem to be that if Legolas trusts here, then she must at least be worthy of our goodwill.” Frodo observed, noting Legolas's dour expression whenever the dwarf brought it up. 

Once they were out of sight of the border, they stopped for the night, allowing everyone the first real breath since Moria. The got a small fire going, though Legolas could not allow them to cut one branch from the trees here. “They are special, these trees. They are Mallorn, given the Celeborn and Galadriel as a gift from the seventh High King of Numenor, Tar-Aldarion. They grow nowhere else on Middle Earth. We must not disrespect such a thing by cutting them. Take only the branches which have fallen to the ground.” He was pleased when they listened, careful now not to disturb anything or risk breaking a branch through carelessness. 

Once the fire had begun, Samwise pulled pork sausages, potatoes and onions from his pouch, as well as some leeks he'd managed to find by the lakes. Merry had a talent for finding mushrooms and brought back an armful of fat morels to cook, while Pippin convinced Legolas to traipse among the branches again in search of bird eggs. To his credit though, he refused to let Pippin take any unless they were not fertilized. It was a small feast, but a suitable one for their little troop. 

“Can we expect some manner of welcome while we are here, elf?” Gimli spoke, his mouth half full as he looked about. “I am unused to entering someones house and a guest without being greeted.”

“We shall receive a better greeting than we did in Moria.” He bit back firmly. “And by far greater hospitality.” He looked up into the trees, trying to spy a canopy hang or outpost. “Though I confess, I had thought we would run into some of my kindred by now.” 

“Maybe thats a good thing.” Sam told him, spearing a fat, drippy onion with his tines. “If they leave the borders undefended, they must be confident that they're safe.”

“Or it means something drawn them all in to defend the main city structure.” Aragorn took Legolas's shoulder. “Any notion?”

“As of the moment? None. But I doubt we shall venture from one side of Moria to the next without coming in contact with the marchwardens who patrol here.”

“Is it possible that they may be hidden, even from your sight?” Aragorn asked him and balked when he saw the hurt look on Legolas's face. “Shall I take that to mean no?”

“It is possible. They are very skilled.” He admitted, not wanting to seem as if he were too sure of his own skill. But it rankled him none the less, and he began looking about in earnest in case he had missed something. In truth, he was hoping to come across them. It seemed rude to pass through, given what they were carrying with them, without some manner of polite introduction to Galadriel and her husband. Yet he hesitated to lead his friends right to their city. 

Besides...there was someone he was sincerely hoping to run across. 

“Well then, for now we shall tread cautiously. It won't due to be ungreatful when we come uninvited.” Aragorn warned them all as they tucked in and took shifts to watch through the night. It wasn't that they doubted their safety, more that they wanted someone to be awake if they were discovered. 

Two days later, they were beginning to wonder if they had been noted and were being ignored. 

Legolas could hear Gimli speaking to the hobbits once again, telling them of the dread elf witch, of her spells and beguiling. He could not help but roll his eyes in irritation, but he was done trying to convince them otherwise. They would learn when they met her. Galadriel's power could be terrible, but there was no malice in her. No cruelty. “Pay this no mind young master Frodo.” he whispered to their ringbarer, but when he saw the look on his sweet face, he paused. “Frodo?”

“Yes?” His wide blue eyes snapped up, clearly full of worry. 

“Is all well? You were a hundred leagues away.”

“Yes. I am well. I...I thought perhaps I had heard...” he shook his head. “No. Pay me no nevermind, dear Legolas. I am merely drifting.”

“Take care.” Legolas reminded him, though he could not deny his concern. Of all of them, Frodo was the most gentle, the most kindly. He feared the young hobbit's spirit might break under the great weight he alone had chosen to bare for the sake of all middle earth. He meant to say something to strengthen his will when he heard Gimli giving way to bragging again.

“Well, here is one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!”

Legolas wondered if he had been away form his own kin for far too long! The appeared as if born from the wood of the trees, made flesh through the will to protect these sacred woods. Legolas had his bow at the ready the moment he sensed movement, and yet they were faster still, their arrows born in the faces of these intruders. 

“The dwarf breaths so loudly we could have shot him in the dark.”

Legolas felt his heart thud about in his chest. He met eyes with Haldir and saw a weary smileupon the marchwarden's fine face, his eyes spent as he took in the sight of their bedraggled group. They had to look a sight the lot of them! Barely any rest, no bath in well over a week, still wearing the same clothing they had departed from Rivendell in. His sense of personal hygiene was offended, but to let Haldir see him in such a state! Legolas puffed up a bit and lowered his weapon.

“Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion.”

“Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien.”

~~~

Elves were nothing if not courteous, even when their guests were unexpected. They were, at the moment, captives of the Lorien marchwardens, but it was a kind of gentle captivity while Aragorn did his best to convince Haldir that they be allowed to pass. For his part, he was uncomfortable allowing a dwarf to walk freely through elvish lands. But even then the decision did not belong to him alone. They would have to be brought to lord Celeborn and his lady wife, and Legolas strongly suspected this was why they had not been waylaid earlier. Galadriel would have wanted to ensure that they were well within the forest before deciding to intervene in their quest. 

But if there was one thing he was grateful for, it was the bathing pools. From Lorien came many natural wonders, among then the limpid pools of sweet water that flowed from underground springs. Rich in minerals, they were said to have restorative powers that strengthened body and helped to heal battered muscles and torn flesh. The fellowship was quite pleased to soak into them, guarded by the marchwardens. 

Legolas nodded to see Rumil once more, touching a hand to his brow in a slight bow as the elf ranger smiled in return. “I am glad to know you are well, Rumil, brother of Haldir.” He spoke in Sindarin, aware that Rumil's grasp of the common tongue was not strong. 

“Glad to know I am well or glad to know I am in my brothers company?” He asked frankly. It seemed that cheeky smile was a trait among family members and he could not let it be subtle on his face. “I have also in my company Orophin, our youngest brother.”

“Saesa omentien lle.” Orophin greeted him and noticed the rest of the bathing company now looking up at him. “Ah...good...to make your acquaintance.” 

Ah. So he spoken even less of the common tongue. Perhaps Haldir was the only one among his family who was so well traveled! Legolas nodded to him and continued to speak in elvish, aware that it would simply be easier for their conversation. He could always tell the others what had transpired later on. “Are we in for a difficult time ahead?”

“No. Not that I am aware of at any rate. But it would seem our mistress does not wish you to move through these woods without coming to see her first. I am not privy to her mind as our elder brother is. And I am afraid there is little more I might tell you.” Rumil looked over his shoulder. “How comes it that you find yourself with such...odd companions? And a dwarf! I was of the knowledge that your father was not overly fond of them.”

“My father is not. I am...not against them.” He hesitated in saying so, but he could not fairly count himself among this fellowship if he were not willing to at least call Gimli a brother in arms. “They have their charms.” Legolas insisted right as Gimli made a show of making bubbles in the water by passing gas. The blond elf sucked in his lower lip as the hobbits laughed joyfully at the antics. 

“Clearly.” Orophin frowned in clear distaste. “Our brother would speak with you when you are ready. He waits for you amid the treetops watchdecks.” 

Legolas thanked them, putting renewed care into his bathing and scrubbing himself till his skin was pink. He plaited his hair neatly, tucking back the braids and making himself look as tidy as possibly under the circumstances. He even took a moment to wash his leathers as much as he dared without keeping Haldir waiting too long. 

“Be careful not to fall from the branches.” Aragorn said with a mirthful look as Legolas walked passed him while the ranger continued to bathe. He held his tongue in his cheek as Legolas hissed at him under his breath.

“Antolle ulua sulrim.” He walked up the stairs, listening to Aragorn's low, deep guffaw as he ascended the treetops into the blue light of the canopy. Haldir stood atop the leaf shaped flet, eyes cast off into the distance. One could not help but see a serene visage in his profile, those deep eyes lost in thought, his brow knit together as he spoke to his mistress. Legolas did not interrupt him, but stood at the wait for a while until the pale haired elf finally turned to see him. “Haldir.” He smiled and came forward, clasping one another's wrists. “It has been too long my friend.”

“Indeed it has. Though for once it is you who finds yourself on a great quest, and I who must stand idle in the trees.” The bitter twinge of his voice made the air sting, and Haldir sighed to himself. “Forgive me if I was curt to your friends today. There is a foul scent in the air and a dark shadow on the horizon which has put all in a sour mood.”

“I am concerned for your good humor, my friend.” He admitted candidly. “Where once I saw joy and mirth in your face I now see great worry and anxiety. I know you must be aware of the nature of our quest. And as such you must know of the dangers we do face. I will not try to tell you that you need not be concerned for it. And yet I would see you smile again.”

Haldir closed his eyes and shook his head. “I am her ladyships chief marchwarden. As such, I have the rare privilege to share my mind with hers, to allow myself to connect our thoughts for brief moments so as to ensure she knows all that I do as I work for her. In these moments, I sometimes am given a glimpse of what the lady knows, the future she sees and works diligently to prevent. No oracle is perfect, my friend, no seer my see a vision which is not as divided as rivers in a wood. And it is the division which concerns me. Of all the futures which may come, so few of them seem to end well, and so many seem to break a wave upon the craggy rocks of a cliff-side.”

“Though the wave breaks, dear Haldir, the ocean does not cease. And once day the cliff will be worn away by it's relentless will.” Legolas stood next to him. “Sometimes we must be the ocean, other times the cliff-side. But in any case, we must press forward.” 

“I know.” Haldir turned to him with clear trepidation in his gaze. Yet he seemed unsure as he closed the distance between them. Even now he looked so much taller, so empowered in his gait, that when he held out his hand to Legolas, a delighted shudder went through the younger elf. “Would you find me foolish...absurd even...if I were to confess that it is your risk which weighs on my mind?” He licked his lips as if he found them suddenly dry. 

All breath left his lungs and Legolas dared not trust himself to speak. He turned his face away, hesitating before he made a foolish choice of his own. They were friends now, and it had taken ages for it to become so. He did not dare let himself return to the youthful folly which had plagued him. 

“Ah...it would seem I am answered.” He took a step back.

“Haldir.” Legolas turned to him and clutch the elder Sindarin's wrist tightly. “Your concern touches me greatly. I have often wonder if I am ready, fit for such a grand quest. I confess, I often think of home. Of what might have become of me if I should have stayed in Mirkwood as my father wished. He wanted me to wed, did you hear?”

“I heard something to that effect yes. Though I believe Arwen of Imladris has made her choice in love quite clear to all.” Haldir nodded to the naked, scruffy fellow who soaked in the waters below.   
“Yes. I'm sure he would have found another, given enough time. Yet even if he had I could not help but think of Tauriel and what love cost her.” Legolas felt a sadness tug at his heart. “Is it better to have loved and lost, Haldir? Is it a greater thing to have let go the fetters of a conservative heart and be embraced, even if it promises no good end?”

“All these years and you have not let yourself love freely?” Haldir's brows rose as he questioned his friend, turning his palm up so that their fingers might slide along one another. The air between them grew warm in the late autumn chill. “Is there no one out there who has captured the heart of Legolas?”

“There was once. But it was the love of a youth, and the choice proved himself even more worthy by refuting it.” There it was. He'd gone and said it, letting words fly from his lips before he even seemed to comprehend that he had spoken them! Yet he could not for any price be convinced to take them back. 

Haldir came closer. “You are not a child anymore.”

“No. I am not.” His chest was drawn tight as the skin of a drum, his ears thudding to distort all sound. Haldir smelled of birch and sandalwood, and his hair glowed as if the full moon itself had been captured by it's soft tresses. His breath shuddered and they drew into each others space. The heat from their bodies connected, and it was renewing in it's own special way. 

“Legolas?”

“Yes?”

“...may I kiss you?”

A smirk played on his lips and he strove to conquer it. “No. You may not.” He let the marchwardens face fall for a moment before his own delight broke through. “But I shall kiss you.” He would forever treasure the look of shock on Haldir's face as he tucked his fingers into the fine hair and pulled his gently into his own lips, caressing them with developing urgency. He felt for it gingerly, and smiled with satisfaction to feel the little silver ornament hanging in his locks. It took Haldir a moment to assess what had just happened, but as his body followed his mind, his pushed his own hand gently along Legolas's side, sucking in his breath and returning the sweet affection of his kiss. 

The world and all it's worried faded into the background as they touched experimentally. It was so cautious it near broke his heart. Legolas trailed over Haldir's neck, encouraging him wordlessly not to break just yet. Their mouths slipped so easily together, as if they had planned this. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of their minds, they had imagined it so well that it seemed only natural to fit together in this way. 

Haldir's hand pushed against his back, and Legolas wrapped an arm around his waist, holding one another in a hug against the troubles of the world. Not amount of leather or cloth could defend them against something which had taken ages to build. There was the hot blooded desire to pull apart the layers and be exposed to their own needs, finally able to consummate this tender affection, this romance planted long ago and left to take root. 

But even as they wished it so, the spark of something great striking against their tongues to catch them both aflame, the real world butted in obtrusively. 

 

“Haldir Nikerym, amin merna quen...a!” The fellow guardian stopped, seeing what she had intruded upon, and took a step back, averting her eyes and taking a formal stance. Not from shame at what she had seen, but elves did tend to view such intimate embraces as private things. The touch of a hand, the caress of the sleeve, the meeting of eyes and shared smile was considered to be entirely appropriate for public view. But any act where the flesh might touch in a deeper manner was though to be something that should either be held in a bedchamber or, if discovered by an unwary passerby, be discreetly overlooked so as to maintain an air of politeness. 

Haldir was pink as a rose as he stood and adjusted his clothing, trying to regain his composure as she stood up and cracked his neck, walking over to his officer to ask what she had needed. Legolas could not hide his smile save by turning away and letting the stars see his face in it's triumph and joy. A few moments later, Haldir returned, touching his waist softly. 

“I am sorry we were interrupted.” He met Legolas's eyes and then could not help blurting out his laughter! 

“I am not. Unless it was your desire that this be private and known only to us.”

“Not by any means. If it does not trouble you, it does not trouble me.” Haldir touched the side of his face and tucked himself into Legolas's brow, nuzzling him with open affection. “My lady has asked that your fellowship be escorted to Caras Galadhon, but a days walk from here. We must depart in the morning but for now...rest.”

“I would rest with you.” He insisted, knowing full well that he could not make such a demand of Haldir's time. 

“I would have you rest with me, but I can not ask my marchwardens to keep watch while I...make up for lost time.” Haldir sounded so deeply apologetic it was almost sad. He clutched Legolas's fingers and leaned in to kiss him softly once, twice, three times, savoring each one as if it were a treat. 

“Duty first.” Legolas nodded in agreement, though he strained in a very personal and acute manner. “I must to my friends to tell them where we go next. Perhaps we might find time then to speak with one another. I would...if we could...find a moment to take repast and enjoy the company of one another. Yet I know neither of us can make such a promise.”

“Indeed.” Haldir kissed him once again and it seemed that they would not stop without the aid of the present female elf coughing firmly. Haldir gruffly steadied himself. “Get some rest while you can. Tomorrow night you will sleep in beds with feather pillows and warm blankets.”

He found no comfort in sleeping. He could not help but wish to feel that presence as he had during the cold winter nights, holding him close and sharing their body heat. Now that the first real overtures had been made, Legolas did not deny himself a smiling moment of triumph. 

 

~~~

Haldir was an elf of principal, trained in the deep woods of Lothlorien, battle tested and tried as the right hand of his lady and not one to forsake his duties. Legolas too knew the value of loyalty and a steadfast nature when it came to matters of such importance as their quest. Neither could afford to spend time away from those who counted on them.

Even so, it was easy to slip away if but for a few moments of time to explore this new attention! Clinging to one another amid the branches and bushes, laughing quietly to steal a kiss, a touch, and sense of longing. 

How many times had he wished he could succumb to this dear pleasure? The giggling thrill that swept through him as he tugged Haldir away during a moment of rest and pushed their lips together in a frantic scramble to sate this desire? Mouths trapped mouths, fingers entwined as they let themselves steal time for the sake of but a little selfish enjoyment. 

Elves were of two schools of thought when it came to matters of romantic affection. There was impermanent love, the kind which is fair to behold and full of afternoons spent in chambers ruining the bedsheets. It is no crime nor is it held as a waste to thrill in this, for coupling is made to be enjoyed, and the joining of two who would willingly share their bodies is not to be chastised. Yet it is understood that not every pleasure is meant to last, and the brightest flame often extinguishes itself in it's passion. So when two separate for any reason, it is mourned, but accepted, in the manner of grace and dignity which the elves are very proud to have. 

On the other hand, ask any elf what kind of love they would prefer, and they would smile in that secret way they have, and speak of the immortal love of Beren and Luthien, of Elenwe and Turgon. Love which ca not be divided, only multiplied as it's seed is planted deep in fertile ground and nurtured through the years. They will speak of love which transcends the physical and creates a bond between souls that outlasts steel or cities or mountains. Ask elves what love they will live and die for, and they will talk to you of a love that joins two and makes life capable of being created, bringing newness to the world in the form of a child. 

But such lofty thoughts were not quite within Legolas's scope at the moment. A smile here, a turn of the head there and Haldir would command one of his troops to continue to lead while they took a few minuets to paw at one another. Legolas, determined still to prove himself in the eyes of his mentor, took the upper hand, surprising Haldir each time with the ways his tongue moved along the man's tender throat. He clasped his lips upon the shoulder and sucked down gently, listening to the quickening pants as they teased one another. Neither wished to be hasty about this. It was still new territory for the both of them, but now the doors had been opened and there was so much to be discovered! 

“Legolas!” Haldir gasped breathlessly, eyes rolling back as the younger elf trailed his fingers along the rim of his ears. “Vanimle sila tiri, Legolas!” 

“Oio naa elealla alasse.” He returned the compliment, gripping down harder now, letting Haldir clasp at his cloak, thrilling at how close they were now allowing themselves to get! Ah but it could not last forever. Soon enough they had to pull themselves apart and get back to their places, working their path through Lothlorien. Legolas let his mind wander as much as he dared in front of others, straightening his tunic constantly to hide just how invigorating he found these fumblings. What he would give for a soft bed and walls around them to shout their passions into. How he longed for only a few candle-marks alone, even if all they did way lie in the sheets and caress one another's bodies. Was it so wrong of him to be excited after all this time? 

He need only catch Haldir's eyes to know he felt the same way. Not to mention the occasional ribbing from his brothers. 

OUH but how sweet it was that these seconds were spared to the admission of romance! It was not as if those under Haldir's command were not well aware of the ongoing situation. If anything they seemed quite pleased with this development. It took Legolas only a short inquiry to discover why.

Since the absence of Glorfindel, Haldir's mood had become a dour thing. Though they had made no promises to one another nor exchanged any vows of binding, they had cared for one another deeply. Some things, no matter how sweet, are not meant to endure. It is sad of course, but perhaps this is the way it should be. In the passage of time, which elves of any kind have plenty to spare, hurts can be mended and loneliness may be permitted to heal and become open to new yearning. 

Rumil was more than happy to gossip about it while Haldir was ahead of the party. “He always carried a fondness for you. I think that is why he spent so long denying himself the pleasure of your company. My brother is always the noble sort.” he jerked his head to Haldir's back. “Yet I have never known him to have a stick quite so far up his backside as when you are concerned.”

“Well, perhaps someone should go to the trouble of removing it for him.” Legolas tickled their fancy with this as Rumil laughed and translated it to Orophin, who joined in the joke with a quick nod. “Is he well? I can not help but see the worry in him.”

“That is his nature. He has always been the one to worry.” Rumil observed candidly. 

“Really? That does not sound like the Haldir I knew in my youth.” 

“Then perhaps he is not the Haldir you knew in your youth.” The brother reminded him. “He has not been the same since the passing of our father so long ago. Orophin and I were but children, perhaps not much older than you when you first laid eyes upon him. Mother asked Haldir to take up his fathers sword and teach us as he would have. What could he do but answer? Later, when our mother returned to the Grey Havens out of heartbreak for the loss of her beloved, he became the patriarch of our family, which I am sure only added to the weight of his duties.” 

“I am not surprised. He always seemed the sort to take his responsibilities quite seriously.” ~Despite his reputation in other areas.~ But that part he did not say out loud. 

The Fellowship, on the other hand, did not hold the same joint opinion. Aragorn, having spent so much time among the elves, seemed quietly amused by the developing romance. Boromir, if he had his own opinions on the distraction of their companies elf, he said nothing on the subject but turned his head away whenever Legolas or Haldir started to smile in one anothers direction. Gimli seemed to be thoroughly entertained by this, though Legolas was not sure if he was being mocked or not. Gimli continued to describe him as being 'fancy footed' and 'light on the load', both of which he could only assume were dwarvish euphemisms. 

The hobbits seemed to find it very impolite that anyone would bring up another persons private business in any regard thank you very much! Though Frodo smiled when he saw Haldir touch Legolas's shoulder and hold him there for a moment longer than simple friendship. 

Legolas was too damned giddy to care much about anyone else opinion on the matter. When they found themselves before the Lord and Lady of Caras Galadhon, their grief at the loss of Gandalf the Grey was renewed, and they were at last allowed the privilege of mourning him as they listened to the soft, sad music drifting in through the trees. He let himself weep, for though he had not known him long, there was the feeling of something great having passed from the world, and he knew enough of Gandalf to know that he would be missed by many. Sorrow should be permitted to flow freely, so that the hearts left stained by it may be allowed to be washed clean through tears.

“ Legolas Thranduilion.” One of the servants came in silvery robes, bowing pleasantly, informing him that her ladyship wished to speak with him. It seemed few if any of the Lorien elves spoke Westron, and he could tell it set Gimli and Boromir on edge not to know what was being discussed right in front of them. 

Legolas looked about once more. He had been hoping to see Haldir again before they would leave in the morning, yet he followed. How could he refuse the summons of Galadriel? 

She greeted him sweetly, and in an instant he was struck with the reality. The light did not surround her as it did all elves. It exuded from her, drawn from a well of power which was deep and fathomless as the ocean of stars. Galadirel, Lady of Light, bore it as a queen bares a crown, and her bare feet fell upon the floor without a sound. “We are as always overjoyed to see our Mirkwood kin in our halls.” She said, her voice like snowfall on a field. “I only hope you do not think me so ill a host when I tell you I have been forced once more to deprive you of your companion.”

Legolas's face fell, but he bowed to her. “I would never think to distract him from his concerns. His loyalty to your ladyship is paramount. I only hope that I have not inconvenienced you or your marchwarden by my presence.”

“Inconvenienced?” Galadriel's question hung in the air. “In dark times such as this, is love an inconvenience, or the lantern by which we find our way in the shadows? But you speak true. Haldir is my most trusted official. I am afraid there are tasks I must demand of him which no other can bare. It is my regret that it seems I must continually pull him from your side.”

“Do not regret for my sake lady. I too carry a duty, and much as it would have comforted me to spend but a day in his company, there will I hope be long days in which we might talk of peace.” 

“Long days...and longer nights.” Her lips drew up in a refined smile. “Is that not the hope of all? I have spoken to your Ringbearer. There is a stout heart there, and yet I sense fear within him. Fear for his friends and loved ones, fear for the simple life of the Shire which even now he longs for.”

“Who among us, when cast far from our home, does not long to see the familiar paths we know?” He swallowed and a question tread upon his tongue. “Who, when cast from all they knew and loved, does not feel lost?”

She waited a long moment, then clasped her hands together in serene knowledge. “She is far from here, almost beyond even my sight.”

“She lives?” Legolas came up to her, yet the sheer power of this woman made his shake. “Tauriel lives?”

“She does. But it is not home which she longs for.” Galadriel bowed her head a moment, then sighed wearily, her great powers strained. “She is not an elf of Lorien, and so I can not touch her as I can my own people. Yet I can feel her mourning, her soul longing for love that she will not be able to touch. It tears at her, and I see a maiden who will never feel the press of a kiss to warm her breast, nor the shoulder upon which to lay her weary brow. But she searches for the sea, and passage to the Grey Havens, where she feels her spirit will finally be at peace.”

“Can she not board the ships?” He asked, but in his heart he knew the answer. Thranduil had banished her for her betrayal. Without his forgiveness, no elf would let her join their caravan nor give her safe passage lest they risk the ire of the King of the Woodland Realm in all it's fury. 

Galadriel lay silent for a long moment, then turned her head. A mere moment later, a fair elf woman appeared, dressed in a rangers garb with a cunning look in her eyes, she knelt before her lady's side. “Search the lands to the far North beyond Emyn Uial. Seek out a Silvan elf with hair like copper and mourning in her heart. Bring her here, if she will come.”

“I will see it done, my lady.” She said and turned with a snap of her hair, heading quickly to the horses to carry out Galadriel's will. 

Legolas looked to the great lady in question, but his answers were already upon her lips. Galadriel had a way about her, perhaps it came from her ability to look into the future and pluck from the strands of a great shimmering web the threads with which to weave fate about herself. “If it can be done, I will aid Tauriel in her passage to Valinor, in hopes that she may find relief from her suffering among her kin.”

“My lady I can not thank you enough for this gift.” He said and took her hand cautiously, kissing the back of it with gracious and well bred sincerity. Truly he had never thought to ask, but of the three elf lords which remained in power, only Elrond or Galadriel could challenge his father's edict with impunity. Her gift was both kindly and well meant, and he could only hope that her ranger would find his friend. 

“Consider it my apology then, for constantly stealing away the time that you are given with Haldir.” She caressed the sides of his face, peering at him with great curiosity. “You look so like your father that I am reminded of when he was still young and full of such hope for the world. I see some of that dwells within you. Remember, Legolas, remember the joys of this world. And do not be too quick to judge your companions. You may find yourself surprised to discover how dear each of them will become in turn.”

“I will consider your words.” He bowed his head again. “By your leave, my lady.” 

 

~~~

As they gathered their things the next morning and prepared to leave with both the gifts and grace of their hosts, Legolas turned his head to the shores and saw a light glint at him from the cliffside's tip. He saw a rider astride a silvery mare, with hair touched by moonlight. Haldir raised a hand to him, touching his heat and extending it to Legolas in an unspoken promise. It made things hurt more as he understood this. Their paths seemed to diverse at every turn, and as things stood, the likelihood of seeing one another again was a sparse thing. 

Yet Galadriel had warned him not to lose hope as his father had. Could she be so generous as to let them see one another again before this terrible time had ended? All elves wish for peace and strive to achieve it. They longed for the times in this world when knowledge and culture would thrive under the banner of a good world rules by good men. Yet they all prepared for the inevitability of war and strife, as if it were their duty to fend it off like a mare protecting her foals. 

~I would know you, Haldir of Lorien. I would know you in times of peace or war. I would stand by you as the flames of battle blazed high around us and defend you with my last breath. But all this I would do in the name of knowing you when there is time for music and songs and nights spent in the treetops looking up at the stars.~ Legolas closed his eyes and touched his own heart as if Haldir could hear him, but by the time he looked up, the rider had gone, and the cliff-face was empty again. 

“Your friend off to do the lady's bidding?” Gimli asked of him, looking up at Legolas with a big bushy brow raised in query. 

“That he is.” He answered shortly, not in the mood to be teased, yet sensing a tenderness in the dwarves tone. “What happened to calling her elf-witch?” 

The dwarf blushed and grumbled, then sighed like a love lorn youth, touching a bracelet which had been woven about his wrist. “Golden haired elves.” he whispered and made a breathy chuckle, wiping a tear from his eye. “I begin to wonder how we are not all bewitched by them.”


	8. Chapter 8

It is often said, by peoples in far away lands of the east where the unnamed blue wizards roamed, that the doom of all men is woven into a great tapestry, beautiful and terrible to behold. In it one may see all that is and all that will be, and if one but shifts their perspective, the weaving may change it's patterns and stitching to form new tidings, though for good or ill none may know. In this weaving there is a thread spun not of silver or gold, but of starlight and moonglow, which links the fate of those whom have been touched deeply by love. The elves are said to feel it most strongly, and when joined together, the natural luminosity of their countenance is made more bright by a halo of rainbow which glimmers about their person. Most will not see it, though some who are gifted in magic or who they themselves are loved dearly by an elf may be able to detect it. 

Legolas did not think of this until the Mithrandir's return. As they traveled through Ambaróna, moving towards Rohan, Legolas marveled at Gandalf's good spirits, despite the gloom and threat which lingered about. But still it did not occur to him the change which had occurred until the white wizard began to hum a tune in his deep tone.

“Bright as a burning Simaril, like starlights guiding fire. The distant shine of halos gloam, will led his loved ones home.” Gandalf looked over at his elvish friend with a knowing smile and a conspiratorial wink. 

He did not say anything, for it made him shudder with excitement and fear to realize the answer of this riddle. He was seized with the sudden desire to see himself in a river or looking glass, to know for himself if this was true. But another glance at the wizard and could tell he need not doubt it. Legolas remember when he was but a youth, the prismatic colors which shimmered like gossamer about his mother and father, so strong it might blind those who were not prepared for it's might. He remembered it too around Elrond and his lady wife, a more subdued, but no less potent glow. 

He remembered the faint glimmer of it as Tauriel took the token Kili had given her, and the darkly faded wisp of it which clung to her like a mourning shroud the last time he saw her before she vanished into the wilds. He remember the day his mother's body was returned to them, and how Thranduil's light began to crack like shattered glass in the sunlight. Fear and wonder, longing and fulfillment, these things were intertwined tighter than a skein of elvish rope. When one loved truly and dearly, one could not help but mirror it when it was felt in their beloved. To know he carried it now was both a blessing a burden he dared not hope for. Legolas sat taller, knowing it was within his breast to share this with none other than Haldir. He would live for the days of peace when he might see it in his lover for himself.

“Careful of your countenance, dear Legolas.” Gandalf warned with shrewd, but not unkind humor. “If you glow any more brightly even the dwarves might take notice.” 

“I am not doing it on purpose. Indeed I can not seem to help it.” Legolas turned with a brazen grin and tilted his head up, looking all the more thrilled. 

“Indeed.” The old wizard sighed. “It is a daring thing to love in a time when doubt and ruin seem the rule the land. Daring...and dangerous.” he nudged Shadowfaux closer as they trotted, crossing the great golden fields and towering mountain ranges capped with snow. The quixotic, phlegmy growl in his throat seemed to bubble up from his chest. “Especially given whom your heart will not deny. Haldir has long been the trusted hand of the Lady of Lorien. She puts into his care the things she can rely upon no other to do. It will take him far and wide, to many hearths and many harsh lands.”

“His work is dear to him. I could not ask him to forsake it for the sake of our cause. He will go where he will. And when all this is at an end, I would see us brought together for an age of peace.”

“An age of peace.” Gandalf sighed wistfully. “Ah but for an age of peace, where there is time to study and sit. Time to let things grow.” “When we sit as friends in the halls of Theoden King of Rohan, I will raise a glass to days of peace. May we all live to see them.”

“May we all live them.” Gimli offered, harrumphing from behind Legolas on the horse. “How much further to the kingdom of the horse masters? I don't know about your bony arse but mine has plenty of padding and it's about worn to bursting.”

“Your head has plenty of padding, master Gimli. Perhaps you ought to switch which you rest upon.” Gandalf had never been fond of being interrupted, and while he remained quite fond of dwarves despite all appearances, his patience with their somewhat brash tendencies was limited these days. 

“Was a simple question. No need to be so irritable about it.” He defended, pouting out his lower lip.

“We will be there in but a few days time.” Legolas offered helpfully, nodding at the far off hills. “The valley beyond those hills, and the hills beyond that valley mark our route. We would be there by dawn if we rode through the night.'

“Ach! I don't think I could walk again after!” Gimli chuckled and poked Legolas in the side. “But then you'd know a wee bit about that eh? Bowlegged after a night of riding ha? Aahahahaha!” He clapped Legolas's back and Aragorn snorted his laughter off, trying not to embarrass their friend. 

A mere few months ago, Legolas might have taken it for offense, but he'd learned something about the earthy manners of the dwarvish people. They spoke frankly, and a what any elf might see as an immodest turn of phrase, he now understood to be Gimli's way of teasing him about his new found love. A bit crude, but gently meant. He let himself turn up his lips and tossed his head primly. “I am not of the Rohirrim, and yet it would be no boast, master Gimli, to tell you I ride harder and furthur than any of my kinsmen. As a matter of fact, I have been known to ride until the horse is the who tires.”

Gimli blanched, his eyes widening as he looked to Aragorn, then Legolas in pure shock. His silence didn't last long, as a loud, ear splitting laughter roared from down in his belly. “Aye there laddy!” he clapped Legolas on the back with a wide hand and began making rough comments about dwarvish sexual prowess and preferences. 

Legloas adored him thoroughly. 

~~~

“The laws of hospitality are somewhat lacking in the world of men as of late.” Legolas could not help but let slip.

“When the world is full of dangers, it is difficult to greet a guest until you know their purpose.” Aragorn noted, gesturing lightly as the renewed King of Rohan threw himself into the work he had woken to. Rohan was to be evacuated, and they were to make the dangerous trek from Edoras to Helm's Deep, picking up their people as they went. The kingdom of Rohan was vast, but sparsly populated, with this capitol being their most dense grouping. Most of their folk were in small farming communities scattered about the valley of Harrowdale. Theoden had already ordered scouts sent ahead along their path to warn them of the coming dangers. They could wait and join with the main group of refugees, or move ahead without the protection of the remaining armed forces. Either choice held dangers. Leave while they could and they would move to Helm's Deep unprotected and unassisted. Stay and they might meet with raiding parties intent upon harrying the oncoming king. 

“True enough. No time to stoke the hearthfires when it is your hall that might be set to flame.” Legolas saw the look of caution on Aragorn's face and turned in time to see the noble son of Thengel staring him down. The elder man's back stood erect, his shoulders broad and proud despite the hunched figure he had been under the pressing vipertongue of Grima. Legolas opened his lips to speak, but held his words. 

“Master Greenleaf.” Theoden began in a controlled tone. “I am greatful to you for your aid in this hour. Your ability and keen eyes will be of no small use in our escape. I am mindful that the elves owe no allegiance to the world of men, and as such your generosity towards my people is well marked.” 

He might as well have slapped Legolas across the face. But of course he would not. True kings did not settle their disputes with force of hand but the wisdom of their words. And Legolas felt shameful. “I am glad to be of any service to you, if by my aid the halls of Edoras might gleam with a welcoming fire once more.”

Theoden seemed content with this apology and clapped both hands on the tall elf's shoulders. “And on that day, I will show you how deep the wine celler of Edoras goes.” he smiled in a braced, guarded way, heading off to ensure no one was overburdening themselves. By his order the people were to take only what was needed. Anyone caught hoarding gold or dragging jewels would have their coffers tossed into the river. It was well known that Dunlendings, the wild men who had once roamed these lands, would throw themselves onto anyone they though might hold coin. 

Aragorn began to clean out his pipe, dumping the ashes in the fire before sliding it into his belt loop. He stood, readying himself, but paused as the soft ashen hair of a woman caught his eye, and Eowyn daughter of Theodwyn passed by, rushing to help pack food in the carts. His faze followed her figure, and he smiled to himself.

Legolas wondered if Aragorn could see the glimmer around himself, and the lack of it in Eowyn. Oh he had no doubt of the woman's attraction to the ranger, nor could he blame her for it. Were he a man he would not have hidden how tempting the rugged charm of Aragorn could be. Yet the halo would not exist for them as it did when he saw Arwen touch the cheek of the Dunedain. No matter his desire to see her leave these lands and return to the West with her father, Aragorn's heart and soul would always be her's and she his. Legolas would never doubt that, and as he hoped Haldir's path would come his way again, he longed to see his friends happy in one another's arms. 

But much like his love for Haldir, their would have to come of their own choosing, not by an interference on his part. 

On the path of Helm's Deep, Legolas found himself missing the tall trees of his home. The land here was hilly, and though the mountains spiraled high above them, he had not to time to climb them for better a better vantage point. Instead he took to scouting among the outskirts as they camped at night, listening for the whispers of orcs, breathing the air to see if he might catch scent of their foul stench. 

He wondered where Haldir might be. If he too had to worry about approaching hoards of the perverted life forms. In the long dark hours of starlight, Legolas often felt a tug at his chest, and he wished deeply to convince himself that it was merely his own anxiety about the situation, not any real threat to the elf he loved. He found himself humming Gandalf's little tune as a source of comfort to himself. He dare not ask his friends for any. They were all weary from travel far and wide, and sorrow as it shrouded their hearts. 

During the day he scouted up ahead. He would, if the wizard had been here, perhaps request Gandalf to grow eyes in the back of his head, the he be able to watch their head and tail at the same moment. Perhaps then the warg riders might have been seen but a few minuets earlier, and they might have been able to meet them with a ready hand. 

When Aragorn vanished over the cliffside, Legolas could feel a part of himself cry out. A howl of pain for his friend, and a howl of shame for his failure to protect the man his childhood friend had loved. They rode silent to Helm's Deep, and he Legolas was clutched with a selfish impulse. If the legends spoke true, if man's doom was writ and the thread which binds all over woven tight, had Arwen felt Aragorn's passing? 

If she had felt his, then should the worst befall Haldir, would he feel it?

~~~

That night, a terrible dream befell him. 

He walked through the woods as a child, the golden oaks and towering branches glittering merrily with sunlight. It was the Greenwood in it's prim, when life flowed from it's roots to it's canopy and not a foul purpose could intrude upon it's glory. Through the trees moved a figure, tall and towering and familiar to him. He followed it as if drawn by a force outside his knowing, pulled by the light from his fingertips. 

Over the rivers and through the dense forest he moved, first slow, his legs much shorter than the one he pursued. He could see him, the glint of his silver bauble dancing among the braids, and Legolas was warmed by the sight of him, the glow of his presence in his heart. A few steps and now he felt the figure not so greater than himself, gaining height, gaining strides. Close enough now to reach out and touch the flowing cape he wore. 

As they drew closer, the world grew darker, a shadow on the horizon, threatening the peace of the great glade. A thunder echoed across the world, and Legolas felt the tremble in his spirit. He called out a name, but the figure did not turn to him. It continued onward, facing the dying light. 

Legolas grew again, arms outstretched, calling with his pulse, with his being, asking questions that might not be allowed answers. Yet the figure he followed would not turn to him. He began to lose the comforting presence of the silvery light in the dark, cold vapors which grew up around them. 

Echoes of suffering, of torment, of death clouded his vision, and Legolas began to weep. 

He awoke weeping, sucking in a deep breath, trying to quiet his tears lest the people hear them. He dared not add to their fears in this moment. War was upon them, the armies would come, the world of men would fall and Haldir...Haldir...

Another thread in the tapestry is said to be used for bonds that are made from another love, love of friendship, love of loyalty, love that has come from standing back to back on the field of battle and not breaking against the onslaught. It is red and thick, and Legolas felt it tug him harshly enough to shake him from his melancholy. He rose to see Gimli rushing through the crowd, pushing humans aside like they were saplings. 

“Where is he! Let me see him! I'll kill him!”

Legolas followed his sight, and his chest was made warm. He waited as the brunette turned to him with a meek smile, a tired smile. “Le abdollen.” he said smartly, so that he might dry his tears. “You look terrible.” 

But even with Aragorn's return, he could not shake this shadow of dread which covered his mood. As the ranger revealed the forces they were up against, Legolas could feel his anxiety gnawing at him like a rat at a sack of grain. It hurt him the most to see children, the youngest no more than ten summers, holding a sword and shaking as he was placed in the spot where he knew he might fall. 

Children were sacrosanct to the elvish, it hurt them to see the youth of any race meet their doom before their lives had even begun to come. He could feel their despair, their bravado as they stood by their father's side, determined not to shame their family in their last moments in this world. It burned almost too much to bare!

Then, like a clarion cry for glory, like a blast from an eagle as it rose into the sunrise, a horn sounded out through the walls of Helm's Deep. He turned to Aragorn, whom he had been ready to confess his grief to, and his heart lept to his throat. “That is no orc horn.”

Legolas ran by his friends side, daring to let his spirit give way to hope. The blast sounded again, and the rock creaked with the force of the massive wooden gate being opened. The metallic clang of hundreds of feet met his ears first, but by the smile on his face, Aragorn heard them not a moment later. They moved out through the arch way and a heat met Legolas with such force that he nearly lost his breath. There he stood, bold as daylight and twice as bright, speaking with the King as the elvish forces stoo at the ready.

“We come to honor that allegiance.” Haldir dipped his head down in a formal bow, then caught sight of Legolas. His lips pulled up in a grin, and he embraced Legolas tightly, his fingers kneading deep into his beloved's flesh. He took but a moment. He had but a moment, and his lips found Legolas's neck, pushing a kiss there, breathing in his scent. “Goheno nin, Legolas.” 

“What on earth would you have to be sorry for?” Legolas whispered in return, close near to tears. 

“My Lady had to cloak our passage. The lands of Middle Earth have become fraught with peril, and we had not the time to fight tedious skirmishes if we wished to arrive here before the hour of battle. She instructed me to look forward without fail as her enchantments kept us hidden. But do not fear my beloved, I felt your presence at my back. I knew I would see you soon.” Haldir's tone begged forgiveness, his voice carrying the true exhaustion he must feel through to his lover. 

“You are pardoned, on the condition that, when this is over, you spend a very long time making it up to me.”

~~~

There was a terrible explosion. Brick and mortar, stone and gravel went flying in every direction, taking the bodies of elves and men with it. 

“They've taken the wall!” 

Legolas saw Aragorn's body in the trench face down, his friend stirring to find the strength to rise. “Gimli...!” he cried out, but the dwarf had already rushed to jump feet first into the oncoming power of the Uruk-hai forces now invading Helm's deep. He turned instead to look for Haldir, and saw the elf he loved doing what any good leader would do...

Putting himself between those who would destroy and those who might become the victims of destruction. 

Haldir was a flurry of silvery blades tempered elven armor. One could heard the thick schluck as his keen blades found their mark, dividing flesh from bone and sinew from joint. The beasts bred of Saruman's design fell before him. Before their bodies crashed to the ground, he would turn to face another, his white teeth a sliver of light in the blue darkness of the rainy battle. “Sevig thû úan!” He roared at them, his challenge offered to any who dared. “Come to me, damned beasts! Come to me and meet my blades, for there is no land which welcomes the sons of the pits of Mordor!” 

Legolas turned to defend himself, spinning between the edge of the sword and the blunt of the maul to remove heads from necks! Even in the most dire of situations, he could feel a growing sense of fury in his breast. He stood here for his friends. For his loves ones. For the fate of Middle Earth itself! These creatures stood between the valor of the world of men and the age of peace all living things possessed of a spirit longed for. 

They stood between a life where he and Haldir might hold one another without fear of being torn apart. 

That would not stand!

His short swords were slick with black blood as Legolas turned to look for Haldir's face in the crowd. A part of him knew that the elder elf would have smacked the back of his head for such a foolish move. One of the first and most important lessons one learned as a warden of the woods was trust in your partner's skill and capability. You could not have faith in someone to watch your back if you were too busy leaving your front open.

But it was that very urge to ensure his safety that might have saved Haldir's life. Though it would not save his shoulder.

The piercing sword ran through the woven armor, and Haldir's body arched as if in the thrusting act of lovemaking. Pain shot through his features and blood coated his linens, but still his fingers gripped his sword. He coughed and spittle coasted his lips, and Haldir of Lothlorien raised his dagger and with his opposite hand, ramming it back into the eye-socket of his attacker. He stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding another blow before grabbing his sword and blocking the following downward swing. He spun deftly, his shoulder throwing him off, but none the less manager to push his blade into the gut of another orc. 

Two more fell, but more were coming, and the rest of his troops were fighting their own battles. A commander alone of the battlefield, he could not allow himself to call to another for help. Haldir went to stand, lifting his sword to protect himself. 

“NO!” Legolas shoved his blade into an orc throat and grabbed the monster shield, throwing it onto the stone and kicking it off as he rode it down the steps, balancing as if a firefly on the cup of a leaf. Passion filled him, quelling rage and becoming like light in his fingers. Shafts flew and split the crudely cobbled breastplates, cracked the helms, sending the Uruk-hai to their ends. 

Haldir gasped as the feathers of a shaft tickled his ear before planting itself into the skull of the orc before him, he fell backwards under the weight of the bastard, kicking it off himself quickly as a friendly arm hauled him away. Haldir grunted as Legolas pulled him up, trying valiantly to shove him away. “Dôl gîn lost! Get back to your post!” he challenged, the commander in him coming out with strength. 

“Shut up and get to cover!” Legolas roared, standing over Haldir like a protective bear over her mate. The next fool to come up against him bleated out with it's dying breath a noise not unlike a cow being slaughtered. “Get to cover damn you!”

“You think me an old elf? Eh? I have had greater woulds than this rabble may deal me!” Haldir switched hands, putting his injured arm behind his back and widening his stance. A minor cut had opened up above his eye and he blinked away the blood. “Back to back! Stand your ground, Greenleaf! The next hoard breaches the walls and they hunger for man flesh!”

A solid thud met his back and Legolas readied himself. “Then we shall have to teach them to feast on elvish steel!” 

 

~~~

“Well now, I don't remember seeing your face among the crowd.” Legolas said, smiling up at Rumil and Orophin as they came to the healing hall where the injured were being treated for their wounds. 

“They were guarded be helmet, because some of us have the good sense to wear them in the middle of a battle.” Rumil said sharply, eyeing his brother's busted lip, split eyebrow, and blackened cheek. 

Haldir rolled his eyes, then winched as if this small act were immeasurably painful. “The nose piece gets in my way. Rubs me funny here.” He touched the bridge of his nose, forgetting to use his uninjured arm, and groaned as the stabbing pain in his shoulder reminded him rather brutishly.

“Well maybe if you didn't have the biggest nose in the family that wouldn't be a problem.” The younger elf chuckled and knelt down, taking Haldir's hand and squeezing it tightly. 'weren't worried about us, were you?”

“You two? No. It's not like I told you to stay at home and guard Lorien in my absence.” He said, the blue eyes darkening. “or that I would have the foresight to know both my blockhead brothers would decide to ignore a direct order from their march warden and elder sibling and manage to put themselves right in the middle of the danger.”

“Exactly. We ignore you all the time so of course you knew what would happen.” Rumil's wide grin was far too much like Haldir's to make it possible for someone to hold anything against them. “Really, it's all your fault.”

Haldir grunted, which meant this conversation was far from over. But he did choose to lie back. “well, at least you both had the good sense to stay alive through out this.”

“Was not hard.” Orophin said in his accented Westron. “These Rohirrim men are quite good fighters. Impressive, for humans.” He was speaking to them, but it was becoming obvious how much the elves had withdrawn in recent centuries. Most of the people here had never seen one up close, and many of the women were making eyes at the quarter of handsome, blond, lithe elvish men. A lovely woman with strawberry blond locks and hazelnut eyes batted her lashed at Orophin, and he followed the sway of her hips down the hall. 

“You might want to practice a bit more of the common tongue before you try to go flirting with the local women.” Haldir advised with a knowing grunt. “Elvish banter is going to go right over their heads.” 

“Maybe so, but they seem to like hearing me speak it, whether they understand it or not.” Orophin winked and patted his elder brother gently before turning to follow the path of the copper headed maiden (who, if she was willing, would not hold that title by dawn).

“You might be wanting to tell yer friends to be cautious.” A nurse woman came by, holding a fresh cauldron of warm water and healing herbs mixed in to kill any infection. “Not to say as we aren't greatful. And I've yet to see a woman born in Edoras who don't appreciate a good a fun as much as a lad. But the father's here ain't always so keen on it. Especially iffen they know you'll be passing on in a moon or two.” She said sagely, gently undoing to hasty wrappings of a battle field dressing before she began to wash down Haldir's firm torso. She eyed the muscles and made a somewhat girlish sound in the back of her throat before her cheeks turned a faintly pink shade. “Hum. I on the other hand have absolutely no problems with a wee bit of enjoyment after the ferocity of a battle. Reminds a man what it is he's been fighting for...”

Haldir managed to keep his laughter in check, though his smile was absolutely ear to ear. Legolas coughed and took hold of the cloth with firm hands. “Thank you lady, but we elves know best how to tend to our own. I'm sure you must have many others who could use the tender reassurance of your presence.” 

Rumil snorted and stepped over to her side. “I would be honored to assist you lady. Please, I am a dab hand at healing and there may be some good I can do the injured.” He began to lead her off, winking back at his brother and Legolas as he wrapped a hand about her waist. She was no maid of twenty, but the gray streak in her hair and laughter in her tone were just as charming. 

“She's not wrong, you know.” Haldir said. “There is something about surviving a battle that makes you want to appreciate life and all it's joys. Even as we sit here, knowing that our fight is far from over, I can not help but be glad to be brought to your side again, darling Legolas.”

“Do you intend to tease me so meanly when you are injured?” He asked, tending to the wounds with careful fingers. It was true that elves healed much quicker than men, but that did not mean they were invulnerable. The blades of Saruman and Sauran's forces seemed to be tempered with them in mind, wielding greater damage than might have been expected from another. Legolas worried over the fact that the blood would not stop seeping through, even as he stitched it shut tightly. 

“Athelas, it will slow the poison.” Haldir suggested. “Then clean the wound and use melted beeswax infused with lavender and honey, that will help stop the bleeding and ward off infections.” He smiled as Legolas called for the ingredients to be brought to him. The women were watching them with hushed curiosity, and this did not go unnoticed by him. 

“So it's true what they say about elves!” one woman whispered, though not nearly as quietly as it she thought she was being. 'They are so free with their love!”

“How daring!” Her friend whispered and hid a giggle behind her hand. “It's so romantic!”

Legolas groaned and got back to his work, trying to hide just how embarrassing it was to be spoken of as an amusement in this time of such strife. 

“Let them have their fun.” Haldir said and took him by the wrist, pulling him closer. “You and I shall have our own when the time comes.”

“Oh?” He pulled back, looking down with an irritatingly superior look. “And when will the time come? I warn you, I grow tired of waiting for us to be parted again.” He leaned in and tilted Haldir's chin up, catching the elder elf in his gaze. Light fluttered about his features, the hazy glow of a rainbow shimmering with feverish intensity as their emotions joined. “I warn you now, Haldir, the only thing saving you is your injury and the presence of others.”

“My shoulder is injured, not my...anything else.” Haldir gasped, his steady voice shuddering with hunger. “And as to the presence of others, I am sure they will all sleep sometime. We do not know what tomorrow will bring Legolas, and if you are willing, I am ready and waiting your behest.”

Legolas pushed their lips together and ignored the saccharine coo from the women as they bore witness to this display of affection. He pulled back just enough to give them a curt look, which flustered them enough that they bustled about their chores and quickly made their way off. Hadlir started snickering, which only got him to laughing harder. “Rest for now. Eat, drink, do not drink too much. I have my duties to attend to, my vows to my friends to reassure. But when the candles are snuffed out and the people let night come without fear or dread, I will come back.” 

“I will hold you to such a promise, my love.”

“I will keep such a promise, beloved.”

 

~~~

Exhaustion took everyone in the early evening, leaving only the guards and a few healers to look after any who called out to them. They took no notice as Legolas slipped through, walking to the little alcove where they had placed Haldir to give him a little privacy. One of the few perks of being a ranking officer. When legolas drew back the hastily erected curtain, he at first thought the man to be asleep. Yet Haldir turned towards him, eyes fluttering open as he smiled gracefully. 

“Good evening, my lover.”

His heart jumped about his chest and skipped into his throat. “Hello, dear Haldir.” Legolas drew himself closer and ran his hands over the naked chest, exploring it with caution. He had waited uncountable years to be this close, to feel their energy between them grow to the point of spiraling out of control. How DARE fate be so demanding as to make him be patient about it! 

Haldir took one hand and began to kill the fingers of it, flicking his tongue about the digits and sucking it into his lips. He drew his mouth over the younger elfs wrist and sucked a little mark there. “Legolas, dear sweet Legolas. What to say? What to offer you?” 

“Offer me?” He chuckled in a deep, throaty tone. “Do you think you need to make an offering?” He sat back and pulled at the silvery belt, letting the folded halves of his top fall open. He was enjoying how Haldir's bottom lip fell open as he took in the sight of the pale elf's naked chest. “Very well. Offer my your hands.”

“They are at your disposal.” Haldir vowed and smiled as Legolas took them and wrapped them about his body, encouraging the warmth of the embrace. They drew one another into a kiss, the soft wet sounds of their lips parting and joining making little noises in the air. Legolas was determined not to give the elder elf the opportunity to pull away. He tucked his mouth into the crook of Haldir's throat and grazed down it with his teeth in a possessive movement. His reward was a sharply cut off whine that reassured him his technique was appreciated. “Ah-and what will you do with my hands, now that they are yours?” 

“I thought I would begin by letting them caress me.” He stated, comfortable in the role of a demanding paramour. Was some inkling of him that felt certain Haldir might hold the smallest reservations given how they had known one another for much of their lives. Right now, if anything, Legolas wanted to reassure him that all was well, and that whatever they chose to exchange was mutual. He groaned out when the fingers began to press along his body, a thumb tucking neatly into the hem of his trousers to drew them off. He lifted up enough to let Haldir do the undressing, sighing happily when the cool air of the stone fortress caressed his skin. What was it about lust which made the body feel so hot inside? He took initiative, pulling off Haldir's belt and working the pants off him, insisting that he be allowed to do this on his own. “Watch that shoulder. If you cry out everyone is going to come running, which might end with you caught in a very compromising position.”

“Oh? Shall I be the one in the compromising...”

“Yes.” Legolas punctuated with a flourish, yanking the pants off and dropping them by the side of the couch. “Is that going to be a problem?” he asked, pushing Haldir back down steadily. He reached between his own legs, slowly working up his own cock with long, steady pumps. 

Haldir seemed taken aback, but it did not cool his ardor. “No. Not in the least.” 

“Good. I've been thinking about this for some time now.” he looked down at the elfs broad chest, counting the scars both old and new. “I want to know you, Haldir. I want to know the story behind every mark on your skin. I want to know you better than myself.”

“Only if you will give me that same honor in return.” He promised back, and spread his legs, planting his feet solidly on the couch so that his lover could fit between them. “I feel you in my waking and un-waking moments. I confess! It's proved something of a distraction. And yet I would not go without it now that I know it is here.” 

Legolas moved down Haldir's chest, capturing a nipple in his lips and flicking his tongue out over it. He watched the proud muscles stiffen as Haldir sunk into the rich sensation. “Good. For from now on, I will not let our spirits be parted from one another. It is a wide world, Haldir, and I will not let you forswear yourself from your duty. Nor can I forsake my companions. But from now on, we can not longer deny this connection.” He sucked down on the nipple, refusing to break until the strong fingers clasped the back of his head and a sharp gasp rose from above him. “I will feel you in my heart from now on. No matter where I am.”

“And I you! Oh Legolas! My darling Legolas!” He rolled his hips up then grit his teeth against the sharp pain from moving his shoulder. “Damn and fie! I feel as if I'm demanding too much of you when I may not be able to...”

“We will make things work as it comes to it.” Legolas reached between the thick thighs, wrapping his fingers about Haldir's strong cock. It was as if he was taking possession of it, confirming that this now belonged to him and him alone. Haldir's mouth fell opoen and he shoved his other hand in front of it, blocking the noise. “Oh I will have those moans from you. Perhaps not tonight, but I will have them.” he pulled a wicked face and began to stroke Haldir. Winding his hand about to add friction to his tugging. 

“Ouh!” Haldir gasped, squirming a bit, but letting the younger elf take the opper hand. “Huh. Ouh! Ouh you mean thing! You have hidden so much from me!”

“Not hidden. Merely kept safe in waiting.” Legolas promised and let his mouth start to work the nipple once more. As the cock began to rise in his grip, he closed his eyes and focused on the unique architecture of it. He fondled the pronounced head, letting his thumb catch along the underside and run down the vein to the hefty sac beneath it. Her drew his fingers up, watching Haldir's muscles flex and strain beautifully for his pleasure. “Now, you may make use of it whenever it will please us both.” 

Haldir licked his lips and let himself be played with, watching with delight as his lover knelt down until his eyes were even with the thick head. “Aye me! I...are you so eager for me?”

“Do you not like blow jobs?” The younger elf asked, slipping his tongue over the root and lapping it up to the top. He reached down again, now moving his hand along his own prick with feather light touches. Has he known he would find himself this eager, he would have perhaps cum before he made his way here! At this rate he'd be lucky if he did not burst soon! ~I would never recover from the humiliation.~

“Oh I do! In fact they may number among one of my most favorite activities!”

“Then let me give you own, and we will find out if I like giving you a blow job.” Legolas stopped talking as he wrapped his lips about the head and sucked down hard, pulling himself up so that a loud pop echoed when the cock bobbed free. The look on Haldir's face was priceless! The poor thing was forced to stifle another moan when Legolas took it back in, working himself up and down, encouraging his way over the stiff prick. In truth, he was enjoying himself. His experiences might not be vast, but they were varied. It had taken him almost no time at all to discover just how much he enjoyed giving and receiving the warm, wet embrace of another. 

He took his time, discovering that yes, he did indeed enjoy sucking off Haldir's cock with gusto! With a finally slurping tug he drew himself off, giving it a lazy stroke as he admired the twitching heft of it. With Haldir lay there breathless, he began to work his fingers between the cheeks, touching the whorled pink of his asshole. “Will you permit me?”

“Yes! Yes I shall! You may in fact take it for granted that unless I protest, you have my permission!” Haldir had clearly been fighting to hold back for as long as his partner had. Nothing whet the appetite quite so well as being pulled apart at every turn, kept waiting and wondering for one another. 

Legolas wished for oil, but he dared not risk leaving to go find some. Next time, he promised himself, he would come better prepared for this. He licked his fingers and began to push them up inside. Haldir leaned into the new push. Legolas took his lead from how the marchwarden reacted, watching his expressions and the movements of his body to tell if he was doing this well. “I want to feel you open for me. I want to feel the tension release.” He cooed and licked with teasing intention. Legolas have a steady push and felt Haldir's body quake when he took it up to the knuckle. Suddenly, he heart a tightly bound laugh escape. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Nuh-no!” Haldir assured him, looking down. “It merely occurred to me how much I have wished for you to do this. I confess my love, I had been possessed of the thought that I would need to guide you through this!”

“Oh?” Far from angry, Legolas found himself in excellent humor. “I see. You thought you would need to play mentor in love making as you have done in so many other areas of my life?” He rose up a bit, wetting and working in a third finger. “Tell me, my beloved Haldir, is that how it feels to you now?” He coiled his fingers up, dragging them along the inner walls.

Haldir arched, winced, then arched once more, letting his body direct his need. The pain in his shoulder seemed dull in comparison to the glory he was being offered, and he gave into it eagerly. “Legolas you are opening me! Your fingers are so deft!”

“Amazing what a few hundred years with a bow will accomplish.” He taunted.

“Cheeky little thing!” By Haldir held no admonishment in his voice. He watched eagerly as the fingers withdrew and spread his knees apart, making his intentions plain. “Now.”

“Are you certain? I do not wish to harm you.” 

“Now, my love. Do it without regret!” 

Legolas slicked his cock well, holding it up and readying it. He was not given to comparisons, but as he looked at their pricks aligned side by side, he felt a sense of gratefulness that he was prepared to do right by Haldir. He laid himself up along the elder elf, using his hand to guide himself up along the crest until he could feel the warm press encircling his head. “I want you.” 

“And I you.” Haldir took him in for another kiss and pulled the little braid out from his hair, showing Legolas the tiny charm. “I kept this because you offered it to me. I did not know how much I would come to love you. I did not know then how much it would mean to me.” He clasped Legolas's face, looking deep into his eyes as he spoke. “I am glad of you, Legolas! I am glad to find myself in your arms.”

“I am glad to be here to meet you!” Legolas pushed his hips forward and sunk into the pulsing heat. He moved slowly at first, gauging the tension, but all too soon the self control he had imposed began to waver. The feeling of the mans' walls pulling apart to make room for him was absolutely astonishing! He bit his lip, struggled to hold back, give Haldir a chance to adjust to his girth. 

But the elder elf still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He planted another kiss upon his younger lover, laughing happily. “G-go on. Go on now. Come to me! I know you want to.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Legolas grasped Haldir by the hips and tugged him down, dominating the marchwarden's vision as he slammed his hands down on the couch and began to push forward, rocking their bodies back and forth together. The wetness was just enough to let the slow drag of his cock provide a cunning friction. The ring of Haldir's ass clung to his cock, as if demanding it stay put! He pushed back in and watched Haldir's eyes roll back in his head, his mouth falling open in a silent plea. “O-one day.” he promised in a hoarse whisper, trying to keep pace. “One day you will be able to call our freely.”

“Yes!”

“We shall be able to cry out for one another!” 

“YES!” 

“Haldir! Oh Haldir I have longed for this moment!” He tucked himself up against Haldir's chest and began to suck on his neck, the two of the wrapped up in one another with fierce passion. He was entranced by the sight of that proud, strong face wrenched up in the pleasure of sex and love mingled together. Legolas put his every muscle into it, slowing only when he knew he must or risk cumming too soon! He wished the let this be drawn out as long as they dared risk it! Sooner or later, someone was bound to either find him missing or come to check on Haldir's injuries. While he did not wish to hide their love from anyone, it would also be somewhat embarrassing to be caught mid fuck when they had waited so long to reach that point! 

Haldir's gasps were gaining in quickness. He wrapped one hand about his lover, the other he snuck down and began to jerk himself off, adding his own flexing to their passion. The hole tightened, giving Legolas a deliriously wonderful little squeeze. It was now Legolas's turn to cut off his own noise of please, which be barely managed by pushing his face down into the pillow. “Ouh yes! Yes do not think to escape this without your own breathless pants!” Haldir chuckled. “Come to me. I wish to feel the push of your cum in me!”

“I will offer it if you will have it!” Legolas swore. He planted himself deep within and up to the balls, holding it as he pushed Haldir's knees up, giving them a new angle. It proved the perfect move. The little change in position only made the underside of his cock rub right up against his partner's prostate. Haldir did not dare let go, in fact he seemed to be clinging on for dear life as he let out harsh shrieks. “Yes! Haldir! My beloved!”

“Legloas! I...I...I!” Haldir slapped a hand over his mouth nd tightened every muscle he had. It was as if he'd gotten a grip around the very base of Legolas's cock, holding down so tightly it was almost a struggle to keep fucking!

Legolas shook and arched up till he thought he might loose his senses. He let himself hold out till the first spurt of cum dribbled from Haldir along with a blubbering moan of orgasmic relief. They without pausing he began to fuck himself into the welcoming hole. “I am going to cum!” he promised and began to be smothered with kiss after kiss. “I am going to cum, Haldir!”

“I want you to!” He promised and squirmed down under Legolas. “Cum for me, dearest. Cum and leave it all within my body! I have waited for your warmth! Ahha! I feel you twitching within!”

He let everything release, shaking as it all poured from his body, his balls lifting and seizing hard till they gave everything to Haldir. A white heat made his brain pop and for a moment, all was noise and color, his world thrown into happy disarray! Legolas gave another few thrusts, as if trying to ensure he had been well milked, before cautiously sliding himself free and flopping down beside Haldir, head resting on his broad pectoral. 

For a while, neither could speak. It was far more important to appreciate the subtle afterglow and general sense of contentment when once had just made love to their soulmate. Such a thing ought not to be overlooked, really. Haldir fumbled for a moment but managed to find the blanket and draw it up over them for the sincerity and intimacy it brought. “May you linger here or do you have watch tonight?”

“Not tonight no, but I have promised to take a shift in the morning.” he said and a soft yawn and threw an arm around Haldir. “But not the early morning.”

Haldir turned over as best he could and put his free arm about Legolas. “Than I think no one would object if you remained in my arms for the rest of the night.”

“I do not know. But I know if anyone objects, I do not care.” Legolas kissed his chin again, and enjoyed it when Haldir returned one to him against his lips. “I love you, Haldir.” he said and breathed in the scent of him.

“And I you, Legolas.”


	9. Chapter 9

The Golden Hall of Meduseld rang with the sound of laughter and the clinking of cups as the people of Rohan celebrated their victory over Saruman's forces. A sense of relief had come over it's people when they returned from Helm's Deep to find most of their homes still in tact. In their rush to follow the refugees, the White Hand had forgone their usual pillage and destruction, sure that their quarry would never return to their city. Their underestimations would ensure that the people who dwelt under Theoden would survive the winter. For famine and cold can kill just as easily as a sword.

The banner of Rohan hung high in the hall, the white stallion running free across a fiend of green. And next to it, brought high above the hall in honor of those who fought and died at the side of men, was the blue starlight and golden glory of the Lothlorien standard. Elves and men had battled side by side against the orcish hoard, and it was these races who lifted cups together in celebration of such a victory. 

Someone might have warned the men of Rohan against getting in to drinking competitions with elves. But the pride of neither would back down, and to be fair, this was mead. elves had more of a head for wine. Camaraderie was champion here, and as men and elves did not often meet as they had ages ago, everyone had questions and wisdom to impart. 

Legolas thought he might die of laughter. 

“I erd...now tis only a rumor. But I erd none the less. That ya can tell the length of an elvish man's weapon, by the length a the point a his ears.” One of the warriors said, looking at the elf he sat with on the bench for some manner of confirmation.

“I have not heard this rumor. But as to my own experience, I can say I have never noticed any given correlation between the two.” The sylvan one responded, looking rather amused by such impertinence.

“Well...you could answer the question yerself...iffen you've a mind ta.” The man, clearly deep in his cups, blushed a bit asking, but it was clear that it was not merely curiosity which had led him to ask.

The elf smiled warmly. “I could not. For you see, I have no weapon for you to measure.”

The man blinked absently. “By the gods...yer female! Ya really can't tell the difference!”

Legolad shook his head and spied Haldir sipping gingerly at a goblet, not wanting to overdue things while he was in recovery. He swung an army around the man from behind, pulling himself in close for an arm to be wrapped about his shoulder. “The festivities will be going on well to dawn.”

“As they should. We have won a great victory here. Not just for the folk of Rohan, but the adversary will no longer have the power of Saruman to draw upon, nor a place outside of Mordor to forge his weapons of war. He is confined again to the borders of his shadowy realm.” Haldir reached back behind Legolas and squeezed his ass firmly, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow. 

“The battle is won, but I fear the war is yet to come.” He gazed up into those star blue eyes. “How long?”

Haldir's lips drew into a thin line. “The Lady has bid me return. Not to service but rather to rest in the glades of Lorien. I will heal regardless, but it will be hastened if I return to where her power holds the greatest sway. From there, I can not say where I shall be sent next. I have some thoughts on the matter, but I shall have to wait and see.” 

“We could do with your aid here. Rohan will need help reforming their battalion. Our victory was not without loss.” Legolas insisted, yet he felt a grip in his belly as well. “But I do not know where we will head next. I suspect we shall find ourselves in Gondor sooner or later. For that is where all this shall climb to glory or fall to darkness and death.”

Haldir clutched him tightly. “Legolas. My darling Legolas. I do not leave till morning.” He tucked his hand up into the younger elf's shirt. “I would have your company again before we must be parted once more. I would have your touch, your taste on my lips, so that I will think of it in the dark times yet to come and remember there are things in this world worth fighting for.”

Legolas sighed happily, a rich grin coming up on his face. “With me. Now.” He took hold the marchwarden's wrist and pulled him along. They were not the only ones with partners being drug about, looking for the solace of a room unoccupied. They spied many pairing off, men and elves alike, eager to celebrate surviving with something utterly physical and joyful.

They snuck out the back door into the blustery winds of the plains, laughing with one another as Legolas helped them find their way into the servants quarters, where no one had thought to come as of yet. Within was a soft bed of sable furs, and Legolas threw him down onto the pile with ample eagerness. “I brought a bottle of fine oils.” he said between the capturing of one another's lips. “I wish to be embrace by you, Haldir. I wish that we would...would rut with fervor in our blood!”

Haldir's rich laughter echoed and he nodded as they pulled at one another's clothing, leaving their bodies wonderfully bare. They cared not for the wind. Between the hearth fire burning, the furs and their desire, there was no cold for the two elves. “Aye. Yes. Yes I wish you to take me hard. But first, there is something I want from you.” He pushed Legolas back against the wall, leading a trail of kisses down his throat, over his chest, and working his way down the abdomen with lust in his eyes. 

“What thoughts are in your mind my love?” Legolas asked, but soon enough, he understood. Haldir's hand stroked along his cock, warming it fondly before he gave an impish smile and popped his lips up over the top, sucking down eagerly. “Oh my! I! Haldir!” he gasped and let loose with a half tipsy laughter, running his fingers happily through the golden blond hair. His fingers caught on the little silver hair decoration, and a flood of joy wrapped itself tightly about his heart, refusing to let go. 

There are moments so worthy of tears that they can not be called sorrowful. For Legolas, this was one of them. 

Haldir sucked down with wet, slow movements, clearly enjoying his treat with gusto. A hungry little slurp and his tongue flicked out along the underside, leaving a trail behind for him to follow back down. He worked the cock generously, watching as it grew to a full, proud erection. “Shall I take in more?” he asked in an almost innocent tone, batting his eyelashes up at his lover.

“If you can I would appreciate it greatly!” Legolas whispered, and watched with stunned amazement as Haldir took a deep breath and proceeded to lower his head down the entire length of the shaft. His eyes rolled up and he looked drunk more on bliss than wine, not ceasing till his nose met with his partner's pelvis. “Aye me!” 

Haldir gurlged in response, holding it down as his throat flexed and swallowed, creating a tight pressure about the prick. He drew himself back up slowly, looking down at the head and licking his lips at the sight of precum. “Yes. I wish for this.” He leaned down and lapped it up happily. “Legolas. Give me your taste.” He opened his mouth and swallowed the elf whole, down to the root of it as if he could not bare another moment without it present in his throat.

For all he was worth, Legolas was determined not to cum! Not yet, at any rate, He began to slick his fingers with oils and reached around, tucking two neatly into Haldir's tight ass. He was given a soft groan as the elf looked up at him, encouraging the motion. Slowly, with every intention of invoking pleasure, Legolas began to move them in and out, stretching the ring.

Haldir lifted his head. “Slowly at first. Ah me yes. Just like that.” He crooned, licking at the cock as he was worked open. “Spread your fingers wide, move them within me so I may be stretched right.” He leaned back and bit his lip, shuddering at the embrace. “Ah! Legolas! Ouh the sweetness of your touch!”

“It is yours whenever you wish for it.” He promised in return, moving as he was bidden. As much as he wished to have Haldir sucking along him, the time had come to push within and give them both the pleasure they sought. “How would you...?”

“On all fours.” Haldir insisted, tucking the fucks up under himself as he bent down, ass end high. He looked back over his shoulder with a cheeky grin that would charm a wolf! “You will go deeper this way, and rub against the budding heat within my body.” He pushed himself into a comfortable position and spread his knees wide, sinking back to give Legolas room to work. “You will need more oil.”

“As you wish, my love.” The elvish prince cooed and spread it generously upon the pink ring and his own aching cock. His fingers teased the entry once more, and the amorous groan that pulled from his lovers throat was inspiring. “Ready for me?” 

“Always.” Came the breathless response. “Slowly at first, let the stretch come. Ou!” He closed his eyes and gave a giddy, foolish look back. “I could live a thousand more years and never find so sweet a satisfaction as the first gripping pop of your prick within me, Legolas.”

“I could live longer and find nothing so delightful as your words while we lie together.” He returned and kissed along the strong, muscled back. Now he could see it, uncovered and unhampered by urgency or shadows. Haldir had spent many years in the service of his Lady. Her marchwarden, her warrior, and on occasion her clandestine spy-master. He had the marks to prove that this life was not an easy one. Yet each scar, pinkand knotted, only made him more regal to Legolas's eyes. 

“Deeper now. Ah! A little lower. Ouf! Ouh yes! Right...you must drag it in and out slowly at first.” Haldir instructed, looking fit for a good fuck. “Right as...ah! Ah you have the way of it now don't you?”

“I have not been idle you know.” Legolas responded with a grin. “And it is unfair to leave a bed partner unhappy. I would know every way there is to please you, my Haldir.” He began to pick up the pace as he was instructed, enthralled by the grip now pulsing along his shaft. Every thrust was like a hot tension, holding him within. As he withdrew he was given the pleasure of Haldir's long and low moans to inform him that he was indeed doing quite well. He lifted himself up and plunged deep when the time was right, and reached beneath then both to fondle Haldir's erection in time with his thrusts. 

They crooked into one another's bodies as if protecting themselves from the chill in the air. Entwined in golden hair, fur and elf flesh, there was nothing beyond the moment where their light joined and everything became a golden heat. Would it always be so wonderful? So blissful? Would there be times of peace where they could linger without guilt in one another's arms and spend hours prolonging their lovemaking instead of this wonderful, but brief exchange? They clung to the idea that there would be this in their future. They joined their bodies and their spirits reached out to one another, weaving the net of their connection tightly so that it might never fray. They could hear each others heart beat in their minds, feel it in their fingertips! Orgasm was the last thought on their minds. There was only the need to not let go for as long as they could.

Haldir lay there after, Legolas cradled in the crook of his arm, hand splayed out with possessive intentions across his chest. They could still hear the feasting going on in the great hall, but the clamor of it had died down a bit. “We should hurry back before we are missed.” Haldir said, but his tone carried that he did not really give a damn if anyone did miss them.

“Or we could retreat to the rooms given to us.”

“Your friends will not mind to come in and find us tangled together?” Haldir asked in surprise.

“Only if we are noisy. If we are asleep, I dare say they shall only find it all the more amusing that we have exhausted one another to such a point.” Legolas tugged at his chin and left a deep kiss upon his lips. “I will show you where we are when I can.”

“I will ride to you if I am permitted. Until then, I trust your steadfast friends to keep you safe, dear Legolas.”


	10. Chapter 10

Legolas groaned, feeling something stir in his sleep by his side. The warmth of the the furs was enough to lull him back to sleep for a moment, but a sharp whimper drew him back out of the slumber. “Haldir?” he grumbled, shuffling about, turning over and coming wide awake as he saw the strain on his lovers face. Haldir's cheeks washed with sweat and strain, his grimace pulled up as he panted as if something heavy weighed on his chest. “Haldir my love? Awaken! Haldir.”

“The eye...!” he hissed, shaking in his sleep, fingers clutching at air. “The great eye burns in the darkness. His attack shall come soon. The white tree burns! It burns!” 

~The great eye?~ He paused, listening to the prophetic voice. It was no unknown thing for elves in times of crisis to hear bits of what the future might lay before them. His father had done so once when he was much younger. And he knew Galadriel had a unique gift for such powers. He wondered if perhaps Haldir had been so long in her service, that he might be seeing something that she saw. 

Haldir gasped as if out of breath, and began to squeeze his arm tightly, teeth bared as he screamed in silent fury. “The doom of man is at hand! The doom of man!”

Legolas could do nothing to wake him. He could only sit there, clutching at his brow, trying to offer what comfort he could in the strain. There was no power which could make him stir until this moment of terror was over. 

“Awaken!” Came a voice from the hall. “Legolas, awaken! There has been an accident with Pippin...” Aragorn flung aside the curtain and paused, afraid he had wandered into the midst of a lovely tryst as Legolas and Haldir both lay naked on the bed. It took him only a moment to realize the dangers here, and he leaned down to take a closer look. “What has happened?”

“I do not know. He stirred in his sleep and when I awoke he was cringing in pain.” Legolas waved down a serving man and told him to bring cool water and clothes, as well as any healing unguents he might have. But before the fellow could get down the hall, Haldir opened his eyes as if waking from a terrible nightmare and stared at the two of them. 

“I...I am sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.” He moaned and pressed a hand to his head, eyes closing as he sank back to the sheets. “What did I say?”

“I heard nothing.” Aragorn confessed. “But something terrible has come upon Pippin. Gandalf woke to find him struggling on the floor with the Palantir. We fear he may have led the enemy to our location.” He touched Legolas's shoulder gently. “See that your friend is well. Come to me if you have need of me. But I must...”

“Aye. Go.” Legolas took the furs and drew them up around them. “Haldir, speak to me.” He touched the man with ginger kindness, and slowly managed to unclench his fingers from the great wound in his arm. Haldir had many wounds to sport from his years of service, but this one stood out, black as pitch and ragged as a torn cloth. The Mirkwood elf touched it and saw his lover flinch away from it. “A Morgul blade.” 

“Yes. One delivered many years ago by a frightful wraith astride a fell beast.” Haldir explained as the servant returned with the supplies and a cool drink of water for each of them. Haldir drank eagerly, feeling his head ache ease. “It was there I met Glorfindel, though we did not speak at the time.”

“I would imagine so. The battlefield is hardly the place for flirtations.” He teased in return, waiting patiently to heard what the marchwarden had to say. 

“You'd be surprised.” He cooed when Legolas pressed a cloth to his brow. “Oh thank you. That is lovely of you. But you are right. We did not flirt until much later. At that time I was cornered by Kahmul, the Easterling, once the lord of Rhun. He is second in might only to the Witch King of Angmar, and as fierce in battle as any foe I have ever dared to meet. He dealt me many blows but only one was given with the wretched Morgul knife. I believe he meant then to leave me on the battlefield to wither away, sure I would be taken and become a wraith long before anyone came to rescue me.” Haldir smiled. “It was Glorfindel who found me and drug me away from the dark lands beyond death. His wise craft removed the shard, so that if I should die, I would not be doomed to the wispy vestiges of an undeath. I survived, but since then I have been able to feel the wickedness of the Nazgul and their master whenever it is too near to me.” He sat up and touched Legolas's arm. “What did I speak while I was under its power?” He listened as it was repeated and looked troubled; enough so to rise from the bed, albeit shakily, and start fishing about for his clothing. 

“You should not ride in this condition.” Legolas tried, but he knew it was of little use. 

“I have ridden feeling far worse.” Haldir shuffled into his trousers. “If it has struck me, then it has struck my lady. And as I have little knowledge of prophesy of my own accord, I can only discern the true meaning of it from her.”

“It would seem clear enough to me. Sauron is mounting an army, this we have known for some long ages. Gondor will be the first place where he shows his strength. If your lady wishes you to stand in his way, then come with us. Stand with us when we travel there.”

“It is more complicated than that. I have not the freedom to move where I will, Legolas. I have already put off my return to Lorien as long as I dare. And with this new information, I can not tarry a moment longer.” Haldir held him by the cheek and pressed kiss after kiss to his lovely face. 

“I know. Tell the Lady Galadriel I am sorry for keeping you from her. I am to blame, not you.” He gave a cheeky smile. “Thought if it were up to me I would tell her how you are in need of a good long, hard holiday.” 

“When this time of frightful things is over, I mean to have one. Perhaps in the Greenwood...or Hobbiton. I hear it is a place of special magnificence.” 

'If you don't mind ducking your head every time you enter a building.” Legolas stood and kissed him, parting their lips and sinking into one another's embrace. “My companions and I go to Gondor.”

“Only the six of you? Will King Theoden not be moved?”

“That is another terribly complicated matter. It is not for me to tell kings how to put their house in order. I can only say that Aragorn and Gandalf have spoke with him and hope to sway him should the beacons be lit. But if your dream can speak to anything, it is that this will end at the white city of Minas Tirith. Legolas hooked his fingers in the belt loops and gave himself over to Haldir's warm embrace. What he would give for a few more days, a few more hours to be indulgent upon one another. But as with all things, the time for love was quickly passing. “I must see to my friend Pippin.”

“Be cautious with him. The Palantir are no small tokens. If he has let the enemy see him, then forces will mount to drive themselves to his very doorstep.” Haldir broke away from Legolas with clear regret, shoving items into a pack and gathering up his goods. “I will have to pull my people from their happy slumber as well. They will not be pleased. I am not the only one who has spent these last few days in the arms of joy.”

“Flattery will not save you my worry.” Legolas helped him nonetheless. “Haldir, my love, be careful. The roads are not safe, now more than ever.”

“I shall be. And if there is any good in this world, I will see you again, at Gondor.”

 

~~~

The enchanted silver song of Lorien had always been a means to herald his return. Many times Haldir had left the borders of this sacred realm and longed to be drawn back into it's quiet dominion. All the while, he had called this place home. And why should he not? This was where his mother, an elvish maiden of Nandor, had met his father, the former marchwarden in Galadriel's service. It was where they had wooed in the way of the elves with witty flirtations and coy satire, and had come to find love blossoming in their hearts for one another. It was where he had lived most of his life, though he had been born in his mothers homeland during a visit, and where his brothers had been raised. When he joined the ranks of the wardens, it had been the proudest moment of his life. When his father had died in service and his lady had given him the position of captain of her forces, Haldir could not find it in himself to be proud. After all, what son can feel good when it has taken the death of their sire to raise them to such heights? 

He recalled the decades after, as his mother began to fade. She would not speak of it, but the other elves told him truthfully enough. Valiedhiel and Eleniel had shared the Light between themselves freely. They had felt real, deep love for one another. Such things were glorious to behold, but frightful in their power. Though Valiedhiel loved her sons dearly and never failed them, Haldir saw it worsen every year. The loss of her beloved husband took the spirit from her. He often found her weeping in the bower, Eleniel's traveling cloak which she had made for him clutched tightly in her fingers. 

It had been then that Haldir had taken it upon himself to act as man of the household. No more could be pretend to play at being young and free. He took up the duties as a father might, training his younger brothers in the way of the woods and the bow and the blade. He took his duties as marchwarden seriously, rising to the call whenever he was bade and striving to be a worthy successor to his father's name. Because in the end, he knew as well as any, there was but one cure for his mother's deep and unending sorrow. Eventually, she would take the long journey to the Grey Heavens, and from there be born across the waters to the West, where the Undying Lands would heal her broken heart. He knew she remained only out of love for her children, and he knew it to be his duty to show her that she could take her leave with confidence that her children would flourish. 

It was some time after when Galadriel approached him and bade him take up her standard beyond their realm and do work of great importance to her. He had been reluctant to leave his brothers behind, but they were wardens themselves and grown elves waiting to prove themselves as he once had. Besides, he could not refuse a request from his Lady. He suspected that Galadriel had seen the weariness of his heart and pressed him to leave the realm so that he might find some joy in the wide world. 

He had never expected it to lead him to Glorfindel. The brazen and legendary Balrog slayer. Glorfindel of the golden hair. Glorfindel of the Golden Flower. When Haldir looked back, he had to laugh. In many ways, his first meeting with the famous elf must have been much akin to his and Legolas. But then, everyone who knew of Glorfindel felt that kind of hero worship when they first met him. That crooked smile full of white teeth, his gorgeous visage, his broad shoulders and tousled golden hair. Male or female, everyone had to hold themselves with a greater sense of dignity not to croon like a lovelorn youth at his kind word. 

Of course it was some time after that Haldir began to realize that Glorfindel cared very little about the valor to which he had been attributed and far more for the small things of the world that were worth fighting for. He loved strong wine, the smell of lilies, and a sunset that looked like the skies were on fire. He liked the feeling of rich earth under his toes, the spray of the ocean against his face, and pipe weed. It had taken time to come to know the elf over the legend, but they had been drawn to one another easily enough. Perhaps when he had been younger, Haldir had indulged the fantasy of a shared light as much as he feared it. The both of them lived in a dangerous service to a higher power. Their lives were not really their own. Not when there was much danger in the world. Yet for a time they had found contentment in one another's arms, and neither had any complaints about the arrangement. They understood their duties and the reality that at any moment, they might find themselves without one another's company. But perhaps that was why it had felt so safe. Haldir knew they had cared for one another, and they still did. But knowing that they did not share the Light made it feel as if they could selfishly safeguard their own hearts in the event of death. They could mourn, but not be broken down by it. They could be sad, but not let it steal a piece of them until only the Undying Lands could provide relief. 

For a time, that had been well enough.

Now, as Haldir crossed the borders into Lothlorien, he did not feel at home as he once had. He felt as though home were leagues away, getting further by the day on the road to Gondor in the services of friends and dear companions. Indeed he felt that here could no longer truly be called home unless he were to open the doors and find his pretty blue eyed Legolas sitting there to welcome him.

~All the better if he is naked to do so.~ Haldir laughed to himself, ignoring the knowing looks from his traveling companions. The army that returned with him had had their own enjoyments in the aftermath of the battle of the Hornburg, and Haldir would not be in the least surprised to learn of little half elves being planned down the road in at least a few instances. The terror of battle always made one wish to better appreciate the beauty of life. Few did this better than elves. 

As they arrived at the silvery gates of the grove, a runner came up to meet them, clearly on a mission. “Marchwarden, Lady Galadriel would speak with you as soon as you have washed and stabled your mount.” 

Haldir nodded. “Tell her Lady I will be there right away.” He kicked his horse into a canter and brought him to the stable-hand so that he could be put in and rested. If she had wanted to see him right away, she would have said so. Galadriel was never one to put off things when the time came. But he took her at her word and went to the bathing house to freshen himself up and look presentable for her sake. 

Most elvish cities had some sort of communal bathing house present, the larger cities might have many. Lothlorien boasted not only the cool and refreshing mineral waters of their great rivers, but a natural hot springs which had been created from the deep volcanic undergrounds of Moria. They were nothing less than magnificent, the soothing warmth helping to ease sore muscles and strain of the mind. While in Rohan, he had learned and taken advantage of the local hygiene customs, which involved going to a sweat lodge to 'purge' toxins from the body. This was followed by being generously massaged with oil, which he was by no means adverse to, then scraped with a dull hooked blade to peel the dirt off his skin. Afterwards, though he had protested somewhat, they felt it traditional to jump into a river still caked with ice along the shoreline! Haldir could admit it had been bracing, but he was far from amused at Legolas's inability to stop laughing at his shrunken pride.

~When there are times of peace, my love, I will bring you here, and bathe you in warm waters. Then, beloved Legolas, I will show you other ways in which these waters are restorative.~

“It does my great pleasure to see such a joyful smile on your face, my brave marchwarden.” 

Haldir stood in one smooth motion, raising his hand to offer Lady Galadriel a bowing gesture of welcome. She stood at the rim of the pool, her hair the only cloak she possessed as her toes barely broke the surface of the water. She eased herself down and sighed as she found a seat, letting the water raise up to her white throat. “Welcome to you, my Lady. Forgive me if I tarried too long, keeping you waiting...”

“Not at all, dear Haldir. Sit. Enjoy the water. You have traveled far in my name and are deserving of a rest before I send you out again.” Galadriel waved her fingers in little circles around the pool, the waves bobbing along the rim and making tiny splashes. She reached for a cup of wine and offered him a second, letting the cold, crisp flavor temper their minds. “Does Rohan fare well after the battle?”

“Indeed my lady. The spirit of men is far from broken. And I found the people of Rohan to be full of valor and triumph. It is invigorating to know that the enemy must stand against such foes.” He assured her.

“Do you believe that the forces of Gondor and Rohan alone will hold against the power that festers in Mordor?” 

It was a frank, and direct question. Haldir considered it for a long moment before daring to answer. “I hope that they will.” 

“But do you think they can?”

Haldir again waited patiently, considering all he could say or might say. He could not lie or even attempt falsehoods, not to her. “In Osgiliath there stand good men between the black mountains of Mordor and the towering white of Gondor. Should Osgiliath fall, the orcs will have a substantial garrison from which to launch their next attack. On the roads returning here we heard rumors of mercenaries and pirates headed down to coast. Not to attack, but to cut off any exit the refugees of Gondor might have. When we learned of this we sent a scout back to meet with Theoden and Aragorn so that they would know what it is they will face. If they are wise, which I having spoken to the king at some length I believe he is, they will really the smaller nations and gather their troops before they strike out for Minas Tirith.”

“They do not have the time.” Galadriel's tone was calm, even for someone with the gift of foresight. “If they hurry, they will have not the forces to meet their foes. If they wait, they will come to late and the White Tower will fall and the age of men will be done. So little chance of success. Such terrible choices to be made.” She looked across the water at her captain, her fingers playing with the edge of the cup. “Yet I sense it is not the fate of Gondor which worries you the most.” She smiled at him as Haldir lowered his gaze to the pool. “Do not hang your head, Haldir. Love that which binds. You would be a poor lover not to think of the one whom you hold dear when battle is inevitable and he is drawn into its fury.” 

“I worry for him. But Legolas has vowed to stay with his companions until their quest is at an end. He would never forsake himself no matter the danger.”

“Very like another young elf I once knew.” Galadriel's musical laughter rang through the glen, the leaves tinkling in response to her humor. “Is it his boldness? His gallantry? His loyalty to his friend?” He lips pursed wickedly. “Or perhaps it is the fine curve of his backside?”

“My lady!” Haldir pretended to be aghast, but it was well known that Lord Celeborn and his wife took avid enjoyment of one another's company and were just as randy and enthusiastic as any elf might call themselves. 

She chuckled to herself and set down the wine goblet on the little silver tray. “Do not think me too callous, dear Haldir. I worry for the son of the Greenwood as well. I find myself wondering how long it has been since father and son spoke. I wonder if pressed, Thranduil of Mirkwood would lend his forces to Gondor's aid.” 

Haldir found a smile on his own lips now. “And I find myself convinced that you would not say such things if there were not already a rider on a fast horse crossing the Anduin at this very moment.” 

“Perhaps. You know, often, people attribute my knowledge and wisdom to my seerlike powers. They are not often wrong. But they forget that the best way to ensure events fall as you would will them is to act decisively early in the game.” She grazed her fingers across the water, stirring it up until a silvery circle began to tremble along it's surface. “But it is not of the great battle you worry. I must see where it is I need to send my valiant marchwarden so that he may do the most good.” 

Haldir stood, watching the visions of Galadriel come to life before his very eyes. He saw dark gray canyons bereft of life, the foreboding passage baring forth three riders familiar to him. A man with the bearing of a ranger, and a dwarf riding behind a blond elf. 

“The Dark Door opens wide it's gaping maw. Through these terrible halls the heir of Isildur must pass and make himself known to their king. Should he sway them who were once men of Dunharrow, then Gondor may find relief in their unbreaking numbers.” She whispered in her tender ethereal voice. 

“And should he fail?”

Galadriel raised her eyes to him. “Then the halls of the Oathbreakers will add three skulls to it's chambers.” 

Haldir felt his chest seize and gripped his breast, the air leaving his lungs. He closed his eyes and willed himself to feel the unbroken line between them. “If something had happened to him, I would know my Lady. I would not call it presumptuous to say I might know even well before you.” 

The lady's smile returned and she nodded. “That well may be. But would it not be better to be at his side, so that if his need is great, you would be there to tend it in the most dire of circumstances.” 

“Indeed it would. But you said you had need of me, and I would not forsake your service no matter...”

Galadriel waved her hands and rose up, clasping Haldir by the shoulders and running her thumbs along his cheeks. “Many centuries you have served me well. Not only you but your family has remained by my side through all trials and triumphs. The time of the elves is drawing to a close, and as such, one day not long from now I will find myself on the shores of the Grey Havens, ready to sail into the West and return to the side of our people.” Galadriel drew herself up from the waters, waving for a fine cloak to be brought to her. “As such, I will have no more need of a marchwarden and clandestine spymaster.”

Haldir swallowed, craning his head up to gaze at her majesty and splendor. “It has been my great honor to serve your cause.”

“Which you have done well. From this moment on, your brothers will stand well in your stead. I trust them for they have been taught by you.” She closed her robe loosely, pulling back her silvery tresses and looking content. “Go, Haldir. Go knowing you have served me well, and that the time has come for you to give your loyalty and life to another.” 

Haldir knelt at her side and took her hand, bowing his brow to it and feeling tears come to his eyes. “By your leave my Lady.”

 

~~~

“If someone had told me I would someday find myself sailing down the Anduin with a king, a dwarf, and a dead man's army, I would have called them mad.” Legolas observed as they listened to the sound of the water lapping at the sides of the boat. The winds were with them, carrying them faster than they dared hope. It was a good thing, for even as they came round the mountain side they could see the smoke rising from the pinnacle of Gondor. The battle of Pelennor Fields was already well underway, and if the sounds ringing through the rocks were of any indication, things were not going well. 

“Which is a bigger shock to you? The king, the dead man's army, or the dwarf?” Gimli snorted and rested his arms on his ax, looking forward as he grunted in a steadfast manner. “Though given the option, I'd never have thought to find myself this far from home. Do ya know what I most miss?” he waxed nostalgic for a moment, sighing as he thought of mountain caverns and great carved rocks in the geometric beauty of the dwarvish style. “The sweet bristly kiss of a fair maiden's lips.” he rubbed his beard as if reminding himself of it. “A fair lass by the name of Gelien once made eyes at me over a frothy pint of ale. I'd half a mind to go and ask her hand fer a dance, but I was bade by my King to go to the Council of Elrond before I could speak to her further. When I come home, I've a mind to bring her an orc skull as a memento of our adventures.”

“Are dwarvish women fond of skulls?” Legolas asked, only half jesting and half quite honestly curious to hear his answer. 

“Meh. Mostly they prefer the ones they take themselves. You want ta win this war? Ya should have asked for the wives of dwarvish men to came forward.” He chuckled as he set to cleaning out his pipe of old dried tobacco. “They'd have put a boot right up Sauron's back end before you could say mithril and been home in time ta roast an ox.”

“Seems dwarvish women and elvish women keep the same general temperament.” He grinned as he knew he could not help himself. “Though with far less body hair.” Gimli got to laughing so hard from it that the green tinted ghosts that draw around them almost looked annoyed. 

“Aye that would be the truth of it.” He managed once he got his wind back. He looked about to see if they would be overheard, and shuffled over close to Legolas. “So...about that fair haired elf whos ah..company you keep. Haldefair was it?”

“Haldir.” He corrected gently.

“That a common thing among elf folk?” He asked in the manner of someone trying very hard not to by offensive and yet sate their indomitable curiosity at the same time. 

“Is it not among dwarves?” Legolas asked back with the same kind of inquiry. 

“No! Not that it would be a problem if it were to be. Dwarvish folk tend to mind their own business when it comes to such things. A dwarf mines, smiths, artifices and such. Bedsport and all such things well...if there is a dwarf who finds himself canny to the wiles of a member of his fellow sex well...” Gimli sniffed and shrugged. “Can't say there would be any who'd mind it. Might find it a wee bit off but on the whole but no dwarf I've ever met would say anything against it.” 

Legolas could not help the warmth in his heart for his ginger bearded friend. Brusque and plain spoken as could be, but there was a loving and honest charm to them that he never would have thought to find himself so very fond of. “To elves, we do not place limits on matters of the heart. It is not at all uncommon in the least.” 

“Ah. Well that's something to take into consideration.” Gimli noted. 

Legolas had something ready to say back, but they began to round the bend. He could see the ruined towers of Osgiliath looming before them, and a troop of orcish warriors waiting to meet the pirates. “Make yourself scarce! We must not be seen before the time is ripe!” 

They ducked behind crates and barrels, waiting for the anchor to drop. A foul mouth breathing creature with a human skull plastered to his helmet pushed past his brethren, shouting out in his raspy voice. 

“Late as usual! Pirate scum!” He snorted and one could tell from a distance he was missing his nose, causing him to have a skull like look to his face. “There's knife work here needs doing! Come on your sea rats, get off your ships!” 

Aragorn had a rare look of hungry certainty on his face as he nodded. “Now.” 

The look of stunned shock on the faces of the orcs was worth commemorating in portrait, if only they'd had a suitable painter at hand. Legolas felt his fingertips itch as he drew his bow and notched an arrow to the string. “Loser buys drinks?” he asked eagerly of the dwarf.

“Don't be greedy lad. There's plenty for the both of us.” Gimli licked his lips. “May the best dwarf win.”

A surge of unearthly energy pumped at their backs like a ocean wave and the great army of Oathbreakers swarmed from the ship, eager to draw blood as if they thirsted for it. Legolas loosed his first arrow and heard the satisfying thunk as it cleaved a hole in the thick skull of the orc baring the human head on his helm. “One.”

The bow made itself useful as he removed the archers planted on the towers to safeguard them, but as they began to move into the thick of the troops, he drew his blades from their sheaths and moved like a whirlwind on the plain. The goal was simple enough. Clear out the reserve troops held in Osgiliath, give the armies of Mordor no cavalry to come to their aid. Once they could accomplish that, the legions of the dead would move forward onto the fields of the Pelennor between there and Gondor, cutting a swath through the innumerable orcs and uruk-hai, and whatever other forces had been mustered. They'd already done good work by removing the pirates from the playing field. It left them with ships to fill if worse came to worse and they needed to abandon Gondor and make refugees of its people. 

Legolas mustered his strength and began to move upwards, seeking to get a better vantage point over the battlefield to ensure where they should lead their army. A nasty looking uruk-hai with missing front teeth and tusks barred his way, and howls a challenge at him. It brought a great heavy maul down, crunching the stone steps at his feel as Legolas sliced forward with his blades and removed a hunk off it's bicep. The damned creature howled with pain and flung it's fist at his shoulder, knocking him off balance and into the wall. Legolas punctured his windpipe with his dagger and ripped it to the side, ending the beasts life and shoving him out of the way. Another two orcs gave him but a moments struggle, but no more than that. He climbed to the top of the tower and overlooked the battlefield just as Aragorn and the army were dealing with the last of the reserves bellow. “We have a small problem!”

“Just a small one?” Aragorn asked, putting his blade through a hissing creatures heart. “Well then how bad could it be?”

“They have brought Haradrim. They lay waste to the field atop mumakil with their archers and the weight of the beasts feet!”

Aragorn's face went back to it's dour insistence in a second glance. “That's is slightly more than a small problem.” He managed an upturned grimace. “More like a medium one.”

“Onward and upward then damn you both!” Gimli groused as he waded through the carnage of downed orc bodies. He waited until Legolas had jumped down from the broken tower and landed by his side to ask quietly. “Whats a mumakil?”

“In Westron? An oliphaunt.”

“Ah well. That clears things up. Thanks for that.” Gimli returned, clearly understanding no more about it than he had a moment ago. It made little difference, he'd see for himself soon enough. They rounded what had once been the gates of Osgiliath and beheld the field, already littered with bodies of men and orcs, trolls and people of far off lands. It was a bit funny to see Gimli's head go up and keep on going as he tried to take in the full scope of the behemoth creatures who were decimating the field. “Oh. Alright. That's fairly impressive.”

“Fairly.” 

~~~

Blood. Blood and death on the golden fields of the Pelennor. Yet the men of Gondor and Rohan refused to quit. Haldir drove himself among them, letting himself pull tight on the cord of love that bound him to Legolas. He swung his sword easily, and watched the head of a Haradrim go flying over his shoulder. 

“Doing well marchwarden?” 

“Well enough, Limladri! Watch your back!” He returned the shout. When he had mounted to ride for Gondor, he had been surprised, but not less heartened to see a band of elves who had either served under him or joined with him in his years of service already astride a horse, garbed for battle. He did not ask them to come, nor did he try to dissuade them. Whether they came to honor his years of service or to protect the realm they too had called home for longer than most men can count their ancestry, he did not demand them to say. But there were here now, when he most needed them. No more could any commander ask of his troops. Haldir felt the ground tremble and turned to see a troll bellowing out it's fury as it approached him, and set his jaw in a raw fury. “You are in my way!” It brought down it's crudely forged hammer and he dodged it with ease, climbing up the monsters arm and burying his sword in it's jugular, barely minding the black gurgling as it died. He scoured the field, letting the ache pull at him as he looked for the familiar golden head. Were they here? They must be. For in all the leagues he had to travel, not once did he feel the Light give away.

A vision of green swept across the Pelennor, and Haldir was taken aback by the gruesome visage of dead men swarming the enemy with terrible determination. “By the Maiar and Valar.” he muttered. But a warmth took him as he looked to their center and sure enough saw Legolas, right in the thick of the fighting. 

“Well...he certainly made sure you'd have to work to get to him.” 

Haldir laughed, his heart fit to bursting as he lifted his blade and eagerly swung in defense of his life and limb. When the bloodshed was finished, he meant for their not to be a room left in which he and Legolas would not find themselves naked and wet for the taking. But for now, he put all his focus into the heat of battle, trading thick orc blood for precious inches between them. 

Legolas felt the pull so hard it nearly knocked the wind from him. He scarcely dared believe it, but as he looked through the translucent multitudes of Oathbreakers, there was no mistaking the halo of Light that gazed back at him. He ran for Haldir, eager to put their backs together and survive this as they had the Hornburg. “Late to the party, beloved?”

“Fashionably late!” Haldir returned and spun to make sure they had enough clearing to prepare for the next onslaught. “But then it's hardly a party without...” a harsh, sucking noise escaped his mouth, and Haldir fell to his knees, eyes bulging from his skull. 

“Haldir! Haldir!” Legolas ran to his side, putting his dagger into the eye socket of an approaching orc before turning to ensure his companions safety. 

The former marchwarden of Lorien clutched at his arm once more, a silent scream pulling from his lips. “He's here! I...I feel him! Khamul is nigh!” 

Sure enough, a screech like a nightmare taking form echoed above their heads. Shadows like a bats wings swarmed overhead as the Nazgul approached on their fell beasts, determined to make short work of the quickly thinning troops. 

Haldir looked up at Legolas, taken by the clear blue eyes and whispered. “Help me! Reach out to me with your spirit my love. I can not fight his wrath alone!” 

The prince of Mirkwood, son of the Greenwood, wrapped Haldir tightly in his embrace and pulled at him with all his might. “I have waited for you. I will not wait another lifetime. Up! UP! You must rise, Haldir! You must rise and fight him with me!” He felt the binds the united them strengthen as steel when it meets the fire of the forge, folded and pounded again and again until it is unbreakable. He drug Haldir to his feet, willing him to find his blade again.

A shadow drew overhead, and as their connection began to glean, a terrible laughter echoed through their skulls. A fell beast with black stripes on it's slithering skin approached, its mouth open and hungry. “I see a face, familiar to me, drinking in my sorrow and poison like an offered cup.” 

Legolas stared at the vacant eye slots in the healm and bared his teeth against the winnowing fury. 

“I feel your pain, elf. I see the Light you cling to. There will be no such relief from where I will send you.” The Nazgul drew himself up and lifted his sword, summoning his terrible forces in a green flash of ether. “I will watch the two of you languish from within, until you are but shades reaching for one another across a void which you can not cross. Despair, elf man. Despair and meet your doom at last! Khamul has come!”

Legolas, though it pained him to do so, pulled himself away from the comforting warmth of the Light. “You speak out your ass end!” he shouted, making the second in command of Mordor's forces turn to regard him. He saw Haldir stumble forward, gripping for his blade even as pain flooded his senses. 

“You dare offer insult to me, elvish whelp!”

“Honestly? You've dwelt with orcs so long I would think you'd consider it a compliment!” Legolas would later remark that, while it wasn't terribly amusing at the time, he'd never seen anything so hilarious as an affronted Nazgul! 

“Foolish infant! I will cut the heart from your chest and feed it to your lover before I make an end of both of you!”

“You offer a great many threats for someone who has yet to make good on any of them!” Legolas shouted and drew his bow with such speed that none but an elf would have seen him move. The fell beast jerked from instinct, rearing its head to strike like a snake. As it's mouth opened, Legolas took his shot, the arrow slipping in through the soft palate and into its brain. If one looked, they could see the very tip of it pointing up through it's armor. The beast shrieked and clawed at it's jaw like a dog trying to dislodge a bone. In it's fury, it threw it's master, leaving Khamul earthbound as it's mount trembled and drug itself off to die. 

“You.” The Nazgul growled, lifting it's blade, ready to make good on every promise it had delivered. “I will...”

“You will do nothing!” Haldir snarled, and gave Khamul only so much honor as to be allowed to turn before sliding his swords into the evil things chest, sinking them in to the hilt. “You will not touch him, nor me, nor any ever again! Foul slave of Sauron!”

There was a shrieking, sucking noise, as if a vacuum had been created in the black pit of the Khamul's being. Air began to pull from the surrounding area and for a brief moment, Legolas and Haldir felt as if they could not breath. 

Khamul howled in pain and flung his arm out, knocking Haldir ten feet away as he tried to grip at the golden hilt of the weapons. He clutched at them, unable to withdraw it. He stumbled forward, reaching out his arm. “Come to me! Come to me brothers!” Another Nazgul swooped down, reaching out it's armor plated fist to take his hand and swing it's injured brethren up onto it's flying creature. “I will not end here to these weak elf things! I will not!”

Legolas had one moment of daring, wishing to go after the bastard and end it now. But Haldir was more important. The battle around them was beginning to die down, the armies they had brought had done violent but much needed work. He clutched on to Haldir, looking at the thick black veins pulsing at the site of his first wound and rubbing his hands over the new bloody gash across his face. “Haldir! Beloved! Haldir!”

“Legolas.” He gurgled back, closing his eyes and groaning. “I...you...”he began to cough and gag, wrapping his fingers in the golden blond hair and smiling. “And here I thought I would be saving you! Silly me.” he began to laugh and it was cut off by a gross wet sound. He laid his head back and took a deep sigh before closing his eyes and sinking down into Legolas's arms.

“Hold on to me!” Legolas demanded of him, lifting the elder elf in his arms as easily as if he were a child. He pulled at the Light, feeling the spark of it clinging to life like the last embers of a fire. “Hold on to me!”

~~~

There is little room for comfort in times of war. But if any could be said to be provided, it would be in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith, where the sick and injured are brought to be tended to. Though many who knew the cunning arts of herbs and medicine worked tirelessly to aid the incoming wounded, none knew their skill and mastery so well as Ioreth. There for, no one less would do to tend to those with the most serious injuries as they filled the halls and beds. 

And it was her aged and knowing face that Haldir first saw when again he opened his eyes. 

“I know much of men and little of elves I am afraid.” She admitted as Legolas sat there, watching her inspect Haldir's injuries. “But it seems to me your lot are hardy folk. These wounds would have killed a lesser man.” she finished changing the dressing and ensuring the exhausted elf was awake enough to be called coherent before excusing herself to tend to other patients. 

Legolas sank down by his side and took his hand, kissing the knuckles again and again. “I had thought I had lost you.”

“None such luck I am afraid.” Haldir whispered, his strength drained from him. “Did he die? Are we blessed at least with the ruin of that foul creature, Khamul?”

“I can not say for sure. I can only speak that the blades you pressed to him were dug in deep, and there are reports that the ground on which we fought him is now brackish and barren, and the dirt there stained an unnatural black.” Legolas tried to offer some comfort to him, knowing well enough just how terribly the Nazgul lord had injured his beloved so many millennium ago. “If he is not dead, or whatever passes for death among those wraiths, then he will surely be soon from the wounds we gave him.”

Haldir did not look satisfied, but he let himself lean into the younger elfs chest. “I felt you hold me there, when he words would have torn all life from me and led me blind into the dark. I saw your Light, and I clung to it.”

“I felt you.” Legolas kissed his brow, smelling his skin and longing to hold himself here for an eternity. 

“Why do you look so worried. I am in terrible pain and if the lady has something which will make me unconscious I will drink it no matter how bitter and foul, but I will survive this.” He promised, but there was a strain to his lips that told plain enough. He knew the fighting was not done with yet. 

“We are mounting our forces to converge on the Black Gate.” Legolas said in a hushed whisper. “Any man who can ride a horse is said to be taking up arms and readying themselves so as to make our forces look larger and more intimidating.”

“To what end. Gondor was lucky to have defeated Mordor in this battle, and the cost was a terrible one to pay. Can they be determined to bring a full assault to Sauron's doorstep?”

“No. The purpose...” Legolas lowered his voice and whispered quietly in elvish, determined to ensure their errand was kept secret. Now was the most critical time, and even the smallest mistake could cost them dearly. 

“Ah.” Haldir struggled to sit up, wincing and straining as he did so. “Give me but a moment and...”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no. And this is one circumstance where you will mind me, my beloved. You are in no condition to fight, much less fight well. I must be at the side of my companions and see this adventure through to the end. I was fortunate to have you by my side today. But this last battle is one I must set myself to finish.” Legolas wrapped his arms about Haldir and kissed his neck, softly asking him to obey. “Stay here where I can know you are safe and well tended to. Please. For my sake.”

Haldir looked ready to put up a fight, but he could not break from those pleading eyes. “I will not be at peace until you are back at my side.” he insisted, and lifted his hand with very ginger movements. He drew out the small braid from behind his ear, fondling the silver ornament. “I will hold this obsessively until you return.” 

“Try not to play with it too much. Your hair is thinning as it is.” Legolas couldn't help himself and laughed when a playful fist smacked his arm, knocking him off the healing bed.


	11. Chapter 11

“Long roads we walk and trails we tread. Far along to the wide homestead. For sun shall rise and sun shall fall, and we will sing round the hearth one and all.” 

“That is a very sweet song.” Haldir smiled over at his lover, slipping his hand across the seat to interlace their fingers tightly. 

“I learned it from the hobbits. They have such quaint songs. Such sweet and kind folk. Looked at me like I was a troll when Frodo introduced me but...” Legolas shrugged with a fond smile. “Were that more places in this world were a little more like the Shire. I have not felt such a sense of ease and good comfort since I left home. I hope one day we might find ourselves free to return once they rebuild.” 

The war had gone hard on the Shire. While great kingdoms the likes of Rohan and Gondor had great walls and armies to protect themselves, Hobbiton and its surrounding communities had suffered greatly under the invasion of Saruman, its people ill prepared for the terrible onslaught of his orcish forces. Frodo and his friends had returned to see much of their homes burned and their friends vanished, but not all was lost. Farmer Maggot, along with Sam's father, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins and a handful of other stalwart hobbits had formed a small resistance. They had not been powerful enough to take back the Shire, but had put a right thorn in the orcish contingent left behind to secure the place. Broken equipment, damaged food supplies, missing objects that turn up in someone else's pack and causing a fair amount of infighting. They made it difficult for the orcs to get much anything accomplished. Once the diminutive portions of the Fellowship returned with a contingent of Dunedain rangers, it was a simple enough matter to take advantage of the chaos and return the Shire to Hobbit control. Legolas had been given the singular pleasure of paying his dear friends a visit only a year or two ago, as they were undergoing the massive work of rebuilding.

“We all should be so lucky.” Haldir added as they passed through the woods, the sound of spring in the air as a meadowlark passed by, letting loose it's sweetly chirping cry. “Is it true that they live in holes in the ground?”

“Nicest holes I have ever come across.” 

“Are they?” The former marchwarden snickered. “And here I thought I had managed to impress you.”

“Tch! Lecherous old elf!” Legolas leaned over, tucking his head up against Haldir's shoulder. “Such a wicked partner I have managed.” 

“Well I must do something to keep up with such a young, virile partner, mustn't I?” He gave his beloved a squeeze of his hand against the thigh. “How did your father take the news?”

“You can ask him yourself. He has promised to meet us there when we arrive.” Legolas took special pleasure in seeing the golden haired elf stiffen and knit his brows together. “You are worried? As if there is anything which could part us.”

“That is not what concerns me, dear lover. But I will concede that I do not look forward to his underhanded jibes regarding my lineage, my position, or my age.” Haldir grumbled and sat back, as if this had now put him a bit out of his good mood. “Forgive me, I should not speak ill of your father. Not when you two are to be reunited after so very long.”

“Do not be sorry. He is sure to fuss. But he always said he wished for me to have the very best. And I have certainly captured the very best of all elven folk. He will be content once he sees how we are together. And this...” Legolas caressed down Haldir's cheek, feeling the soft Light as it shone in their presence, solidifying their love for one another. “None may deny this.”

“I had wished all my life to know this in another. To look at you and see the shimmering halo, this crown against your brow… oh Legolas.” 

The younger of the two beamed at him proudly, but folded over the ends of his traveling robe, enforcing some level of discipline over himself. The shared bond between them seemed to grow the longer they spent it in the company of one another. This had its benefits, to be sure, Legolas often found himself aware of Haldir's presence on another level, even when he was not in the room. Though they were never far from one another for long (having felt rightly that they had spent far too much time apart) Legolas felt certain that if Haldir were to venture off and find himself in danger, he would know of it first. And of course, the sex was breathtaking! The Light seemed at its strongest when they joined their bodies together, and sometimes it proved quite difficult to keep their hands off one another! 

“I doubt the carriage driver will appreciate us making the road even more unsteady than it already is.” Legolas teased, but kissed his lovers brow. “By days end we will be in Imladris, and Elrond has promised to have rooms ready for us to rest and respite. The beds in Rivendell are said to be the most comfortable in all Middle Earth. I for one am interested in testing their durability.”

“If a bed proves to lack the sturdiness needed, I can direct us to many clearings and pools which might provide a more suitable location for our diversions.” Haldir arched an eyebrow at him with suggestive implications. “But we must endeavor to remain respectful. Wouldn't want to keep all of Rivendell awake with our shouting and carrying on.”

“So says you! I for one intend to give my father many sleepless nights.” Legolas stated primly with a look of mischief on his face.

“If you think even the loudest and most ardent of bedsport will stir Thranduil from his sleep then I have many stories to tell you about your father's younger years.” He plucked at one of the braids in Legolas’ silvery locks. “Ones that will turn your hair curly.”

“Aye me! Lechery and depravity surround me!” But they kissed, and kissed again until their lips were clasped together in deep and intimate affection. It was so easy to be drawn into this. Even through the armor of their cloth, they could feel each other’s skin as if their bodies were pressed naked against the other in the sheets. “I am saddled with a wicked old elf who has dirty designs on my body.”

“Ugh. I shall show you wicked.” Haldir said and began to nibble at Legolas’ throat as his partner shrieked with delight at the indignity of it.

The clip clop of the horses hooves went from dull to sharp as they crossed the bridge into Imladris, the sound of the crystal clear waterfall reaching their ears. Legolas looked out the windows of the carriage with a smile. “Bilbo Baggins, former Ringbearer and elf-friend, once described Rivendell as the perfect house. I believe he might have said such things about Mirkwood, had he come and been welcomed as a friend. But for what it is worth, the house of Elrond has no second. I am glad we could come here for this. It feels right.”

“It does indeed.” 

The cart brought them round to the great fountain and staircase which marked the entry of the proper city. What awaited them were not guards nor envoys, but friends and family who stood in attendance. Legolas exited the carriage first, offering the proud Haldir a hand. He hesitated, but only for a moment, extending his left hand so that Legolas could help him feel steady on the step down. 

Anyone with eyes could notice that the former marchwarden held his right arm tucked up close to his waist, fingers lightly clenched. If one was very observant, they might notice that his hand trembled ever so slightly, even at rest. If one were to stare, which would have been rude but understandable, they might have noticed the graying skin beneath the sleeve and the harsh bluish tinge of his veins. Legolas knew it traveled up to the site of the wound. The second encounter with Khamul had left the original injury aggravated, the Nazgul's leech-craft seeping its way in once more. It would never heal entirely, but the healing of Galadriel was without peer. He would not succumb to its cruelty, but on some days it ached him terribly. 

Haldir had wondered at one point, given his Lady's knowledge and foresight, if she had known or gleaned what would happen at the terrible battle of Pelennor Fields and seen that it would hamper his ability as her clandestine spymaster. However, had she not released him from service, he might not have been able to attend Legolas in this terrible battle, and thereby might have avoided further injury. The future was funny like that. But to him, it was well worth the price if it meant he would be given time with his beloved. 

Elrond stepped forward, prepared to give them a proper greeting, but he was waylaid by his own daughter rushing forward to embrace her childhood friend. Arwen wrapped her arms about him before hugging Haldir as well, careful of his injured arm. “My friends! I cannot express how wonderful it is to see you again at long last.”

“We are welcomed by your presence.” Legolas insisted, feeling his heart swell at her aura. “Has Aragorn not come?”

“He could not, I am afraid. Being King of Gondor has its preoccupations. I know he wished to be here. Though he will be a great King of Men, I think in his heart, my husband longs for the wilds and the life of a Ranger. He was always at home there.”

“We must often choose duty over personal desire. Your husband is a good man to give his life to his people.” Haldir told her. 

“Indeed. He sends his love to the both of you, and his good wishes.” Arwen smiled a little wickedly. “And of course, myself.”

“Daughter.” Elrond came to them, giving Arwen a softly chiding look. “The time will come to discuss such things. But for now, Thranduil is waiting in the dining hall, as well as some of our other guests who wished to be present at such an auspicious occasion. We've prepared fine venison and pheasant, a selection of confectioneries and green dishes. Not to mention your father has outdone himself with the wine selection.” The lord of Imladris sighed. “It took two days just to unload the carts.” 

“That sounds entirely like father.” Legolas let out the breath he'd been holding. Well at least by this point Thranduil would likely be properly soused to the gills and in a properly festive mood. “Lord Elrond, we cannot thank you enough for agreeing to host this event. We are aware how much it has likely put you out.”

“Not in the least. The time of the elves draws to a close, and as we make our final preparations to take our leave of Middle Earth, it is good to know we will leave behind something of value. When I look about Imladris, I feel a sense of loss to know these will be the last years we spend in her domain. I wonder sometimes if the Men who will come to live here will appreciate her as we do.” The dark haired elf gazed about at the place that had been his home and let himself smile at its illustrious beauty. Rivendell stood as a testament to the elvish people, and like them it's beauty waned like the sun at twilight, it's last glorious light cast about the valley in hues of gold and amber. This was truly a bastion of peace, where the harmony of the Noldoli sought to bring to Middle Earth dwelt. When the people who founded it were no longer there to keep the place, would Men understand the halls in which they dwelt?

“Have you decided to leave anything behind?” Haldir inquired as they walked along the bridge over to the main hall. 

“We have looked through our tomes and scrolls. While all are far too precious to leave behind, I placed Lindir in charge of the making of a compendium of sorts which shall be taken first to Mirkwood, then to Lorien, and lastly to Gondor where it will be received by the great library. In it shall be a full history of the elves in Middle Earth, our time here and all that has passed while we called this land home. Not to mention several scrolls and tomes about our medicine, our recipes and our methods for crafting such as Men can understand them. King Aragorn has pledged to ensure that these lands will go to those who hold elves in high regard and who will endeavor to retain the majesty of this realm.” He nodded to some of the attendants who bustled off to make sure everything was prepared. “If you wish, your rooms are available, should you care to refresh yourselves before attending dinner.”

“You are most gracious. We will strive to be quick. I would not ask you to wait for us.” Legolas promised him as Arwen guided them to their rooms. He stood to one side of her, Haldir on the other. “Are you nervous at all my friend?”

“Nervous? Oh gracious no!” Arwen smiled fondly, the rosy glow still in her cheeks as if she were still the impish young woman behind the raiment of a queen. “I will admit I had some hesitation, but when I approached Aragorn about the subject, he warmed to it immediately. There is so much you two went through together. So much you endured. He wishes to offer his assistance as much as I do. Though I fear the Men of Gondor will not understand such an exchange. We have told the council that I am taking a sabbatical to visit my father, my home and my people before they leave for the Grey Havens.” Her eyes twinkled merrily, a laughter in them that would not fade for many decades. “They have accepted this. And since it is a very long journey and the very last time I shall see my people, I have told them I will dwell here for two years before returning to see to my king, my love and my duty.”

“Men are so odd. Yet I suppose such circumstances are unusual even among elves.” Haldir noted then seemed to think it over. “Though it is my understanding that it was not always so. Our people have always held off from child bearing until times of peace. After the War of the Jewels, there was a bit of a population boom, as there was again after the first defeat of Mairon. Many of our people chose to have families then.”

“We are fortunate to have the blessings which allow us to decide when we procreate and when our time with one another is simply recreational. Not to mention how unlikely it is that we will pass in childbirth. Men risk much in choosing this.” Legolas reminded him with a gentle tone as the attendants brought their belongings in for them and set to unpacking it. He jumped slightly as one of the servants went to open a large box and gently took it from her hands. “Not that one, thank you. It ah...it is very private.”

The attendant looked quickly from Legolas to Haldir, and then her lips turned up in a prim smirk. “As you wish, Prince Legolas.” She continued to busy herself with the rest of the items and not another word on the subject crossed her lips. Elves were fair folk and fond of romantic trysts as much as anyone else, but they tended to keep mute on the subject unless it was invited. 

Arwen shook her head, quite amused. “I will see to the feast. Hurry along, both of you.” 

 

~~~

It seemed only suitable to arrive in matching colors of the palest green and silver thread, a tribute to both the far off light of Lorien and the renewing green of Mirkwood. They entered the great hall arm in arm, Legolas choosing to take the left side out of consideration for Haldir. As they walked in through the archway, the conversation drew to a close and all eyes turned to the united couple. The attendees rose and raised a glass in salute, a room full of smiling faces welcoming them. 

“Honored guests, we gather here in Imladris in this time of peace and plenty, to attend the union of Legolas of Mirkwood and Haldir of Lorien.” Elrond gestured to the two of them with a sweeping motion, ensuring he had everyone’s attention before he continued. Elvish marriages were generally informal things. Who needed to stand on ceremony when there was the sense of the Light between two people to let them know where their hearts belonged? But this was about so much more. The first elvish union since before the War of the Ring, as it was now known, was a matter of some import, as was the reason for returning to Rivendell. “Know that you are ever friends of this household and will be welcome wherever the standard of my House holds sway.” 

Haldir bowed graciously, Legolas following suit. Within seconds there was wine in their hands and a throng of elves around them, each one eager to have a moment of time to wish them well on their endeavors. Food was brought in abundance, delicacies carried on silver trays offered to anyone who appeared to be empty handed for even a moment. A sense of calm revelry seemed to flit through the air as the evening turned to night and the stars twinkled overhead. The lanterns were lit and a warm glow brought comfort and kept the chill in the air at bay. 

Legolas caught sight of a crown which bore bright red berries and felt his shoulders stiffen as he turned towards his father. It occurred to him that Thranduil had not sought him out immediately, but then maybe he had been giving his son the opportunity to decide when he wanted to approach. That would be like him after all. He peeked over to see where Haldir was, and decided it would be best to let himself speak first. It had been well over a hundred years since they last spoke after all. 

Those clear blue eyes turned to regard him and for a moment, Legolas saw a piercing shard of love strike through them. “My son.” He offered and bowed his head, touching his hand to his brow. “It is good to see you in such good health and in... good company.” 

“Good company indeed. May you come to know him better before...”

“Before what?” Thranduil now turned, his cloak following him with the grace of a breeze following spring. 

“I beg your pardon, father. I had thought you intended to travel to the Grey Havens and take the long journey across the sea.” He now felt somewhat guilty for having mentioned it. The history of the Elves of the Woodland Realm was somewhat different from Elrond's tribe. Blood of elves had been spilled on that ground and as such, it seemed almost blasphemy to leave it behind. 

“Perhaps someday my son. Perhaps even someday soon. I will not deny the call I have felt in my heart to return to the sea and feel the waves break along the prow of my ship as we are born into the West. But for now, the borders of the Greenwood are safe, and we have yet to decide if we shall follow Elrond's example and open it to become the dwelling place of Men or if we shall let Galadriel set the standard. She intends to close Lorien to any but those who have the will and the power to seek it out. Let it become a last refuge for those who would see the realm of the elves at the height of all its glory and knowledge. And...” He smiled, perhaps a bit fondly. “...in case we were to return one day.”

“Do you think that likely?”

“Anything is possible, given time. And what do elves have but time? All the great and terrible wars have been fought.” Thranduil regarded his glass as if he might find the resolve he required in the depths of the red wine. “But I know this for certain. When I go, I will not be returning. I cannot find joy here any longer my son and I am sorry for that. Would that I had known it long ago, before my melancholy drove you to leave.”

“It was not your melancholy, father. It was that you would not confide in me your sorrow, and let me have the chance to heal you in some small way.” Legolas reached out and touched Thranduil's arms, clasping his father and looking up into his eyes. “Her death hurt me greatly, ada. But to see you drift away over the years to a place where I, as your son, could do nothing to aid you? That was a terrible wound to bear.” 

Thranduil looked shaken, but he turned his hands up and took hold of Legolas’ in turn, tugging his son into his embrace. He was stiff and solid as an oak tree, but he was trying. That had to count for something in the long run. “Will you return, when all is said and done? Will you come home with me? Haldir will be welcomed as he should be.”

“We may yet. We must dwell here for a time until things are settled. But I would be most distraught to never see my home again. Besides, I would not allow such a thing. I only hope there will be enough time before everyone takes their leave. I know Haldir wishes to see his brothers and let them know all is well. I suspect Lady Galadriel would wish to give her blessing.” He felt an arm close around his shoulder and turned to bring Haldir into their conversation. His partner gave a bow to Thranduil, who inclined his head in greeting.

“Greetings King of the Greenwood. I hope the evening finds you well.” He was using his very best formal tone, but it was clear that he was much more nervous than he wanted to let on. He kept his good arm wrapped on Legolas' shoulder, as if frightened he might vanish if he were out of his sight.

“Quite well, and getting much better with each glass of excellent wine.” Thranduil addressed him calmly. “I am pleased to find that my son has discovered someone who brings the Light to him. Perhaps had I known what the two of you were meant for, I would not have encouraged you to leave so long ago.”

“Ages past. You sought only to protect your people, as any king would. One can hardly fault such thinking. Not being a king or even nobility myself, I can only know that I would take necessary precautions to protect my home and my people. Besides, we found one another, in the end.” Haldir seemed to relax a bit, knowing now that at the very least his partners father was going to treat him with due attentiveness. “We are glad you attended. We had considered, well we wished perhaps if you might offer us a name...”

“Legolas!” Arwen made her way through the crowd, giving Thranduil a proper respect before she managed to ensnare the subject of her search. “I wish to show you both something. If I may steal your son and your sons partner for but a short while.”

“It is your household, Lady Arwen.” Thranduil offered gracefully and sipped at his goblet as they retreated. 

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he could almost imagine that he saw a smile on his father’s face. Arwen pulled them through the crowd and out through the back entrance to the patio. Down the stairs and over away from the lights or the crowd was a small glade where there lay a pool which captured the moonlight perfectly, letting it shimmer with white light. A willow tree hung overhead and its longest branches just barely touched the surface, while a large bench sat just under it. 

“I thought perhaps this would be a good place. Father had suggested one of the bedrooms, but that felt a touch too secretive. I though this place just private enough, without sacrificing aesthetic.” She turned to them, sitting down on the bench and seeming deeply content in this little glen. 

“It is magnificent!” Haldir applauded, looking about the place and nodding as he decided it was just right. “Will we be needing anyone else to assist?” 

“My father has offered to be on hand, as has King Thranduil if we should find it needed. In truth I think we can manage well enough on our own, but father has overseen these proceedings before. He has the proper knowledge.” Arwen smoothed out her dress as she waited for their decision. 

“I suspect it is as much of a desire to see things well done as to ensure we are all safe.” Legolas could not help himself. He started laughing under his breath, shaking his head and the funny thought. “As if we don't know how to do anything right.”

“Well it is a bit more complex than how these things are usually accomplished. But I dare say we'll figure it out easily enough. Still, it's up to the both of you. I've no objections either way.” The elvish queen insisted. 

“I would rather we kept the space as intimate as possible. Though if they've no objections to remaining close at hand, I can't see the harm in it. I've never witnessed things done this way before.” Haldir admitted and looked to Legolas for his thoughts.

“Close at hand seems best, I agree. Tomorrow then? After a good night’s rest?” 

“My beloved Legolas, what makes you think you will be getting any kind of rest tonight?” 

 

~~~

They ducked the party. Surely there would be understanding faces in the crowd. For all that people assumed elves to be a bunch of prissy folk with their noses up in the air, anyone who'd spent any decent amount of time with them know the pointy eared folk to be just as lascivious and eager as any of the races. They just kept most of it to themselves! 

Haldir pulled Legolas back to their rooms, pausing between every door way and corner to grasp at him, tangle his fingers in the blond locks and listen to the music of his partner gasping at the hungry affection. “Legolas...” he groaned breathlessly and started undoing the little silver clasps hidden by the trim. 

“I wondered how long you could wait.” Said the younger elf with a very prim sense of satisfaction. He gripped at his lover and pulled him close, kissing down his neck until a thrill went through the both of them at the renewed connection. “Shall I take you to bed and topple you right away?”

“Topple me is it?” Haldir growled happily. “I thought perhaps tonight, I might sink myself into the warmth of your body. Assuming that you have no objections.” 

“Never.” Legolas promised with a tender purr, pushing back the curtains that gave them some measure of privacy. Rivendell's temperate climate allowed for such open chambers, but it did make for a rather interesting method of keeping quiet. Open curtains allowed for any visitors who might need to come to call. Drawn curtains told passersby to pass by a bit quicker or risk hearing what was going on inside. Legolas grabbed at the tassel and fumbled with it to get it untied before it swung across, giving them the dimly lit room to play in. “Will you have me tonight, Haldir?”

“Tonight and for many nights from now on.” He climbed atop his younger lover and set about undressing him, marveling at the lithe frame that lay exposed to him. “No matter how often I see you, it is as if I am home.” He vowed and leaned in close capturing their lips in a hot blooded kiss. Clothing was tossed aside onto the floor, as they rubbed up against one another eagerly. Haldir cupped his hand down between Legolas’ thighs, fondling the cock with affection. “And no matter how often I see this cock, it still makes my mouth water.”

“HA! Dirty old elf!” He teased and laughed giddily when Haldir tugged at him, tickling a finger up under the length of it. “Look at what I have to put up with!”

“Ah! What you have to put up with? I am the one saddled with a red blooded young elf who keeps me awake day and night with his pounding erection!” Haldir teased, nibbling his way down his lovers’ torso. Legolas twitched and groaned, happy for all the attention. “My aching back!” 

“Oh get your mouth to work! If nothing else it will quiet your bellyaching for a while!” He groaned as Haldir met with his demand and slipped the half hard cock into his lips, sucking it up and down gratefully. He coddled it with his tongue, slurping it up as he went. Legolas’ moan trembled over his bottom lip and he drug his fingers over Haldir's scalp to encourage him. “Aye me. Ouh yes!” He pumped his hips up with little movements, wanting to draw it out. “Use your tongue around the tip please. Umph! Oh my that feels good!” 

“Ay shuold shink sho!” Haldir insisted, not taking his lips off the prick. Another warm suck and Legolas tightened, the muscles in his thighs tensing along with it. He moved his tongue out of his mouth and slipped it neatly about the balls, enjoying just how quickly Legolas’ cock hardened with that added stimulation. He let himself linger about it for a moment before popping his mouth off and giving a superior grin. “Are we enjoying ourselves?”

Legolas panted as he tried to find words. “We might be. And we might not. It all depends upon whether or not we are going to get on with it.”

“Impatient.” But he slid his mouth down over it none the less. He left again only for a brief moment to locate a bit of oil and slick his fingers up. By the time he returned, Legolas had squirmed down on the bed and lifted his legs, giving Haldir easy access to the tight pink hole awaiting his attention. “Needy and demanding.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” The younger elf chided, but his scoffing turned to a low moan as the digit worked its way up inside of him. A hot clench seized his body, and Legolas shook his head to show he wished for more. He watched as Haldir worked his fingers in, giving his cock a warm suck or a few pumps to keep it attentive to his work. Every touch was paradise to Legolas; every second their flesh remained in connection was more wonderful than the last! He positively crooned when he was treated with a second finger to help him open to the push. 

“More?” Haldir breathed out. 

“More.” Legolas insisted. 

Haldir would have been happy to suck him off all night long if the young elf would have permitted. There were few things he found as intimately satisfying as the weight of a cock settling down on his tongue as he got his fill. But for the moment he needed to get the angle right to ensure he opened Legolas properly. “My beloved, my sweet darling Legolas. I look down at you and I see ages stretched out before us. For you and I my love, there is eternity.”

“Yes. Aye me yes!” Legolas breathed out, adoring how easily the elf’s fingers parted his walls. Lewd sounds escaped him whenever they were pulled free, but it was worth it to feel that friction inside his body. “I need you inside of me!” 

“Do you? Are you quite sure? I would not wish to rush...ouf!” Haldir laughed as Legolas pulled him up top and wrapped his legs about the former marchwarden's back.

“Within me! Now, please!”

“Impatient.” Haldir enunciated in his ear, but slid his cock up proudly between the plump cheeks. He rocked back and forth steadily, trying to find the right pace, slowly letting the hole expand and contract around his press. As the head of his cock slipped in, Legolas whined out high and proud, shoving his wrist in his mouth to quiet the sounds. “No. I don't think so.” Haldir gently removed the block, pushing his lips down instead as his own hard prick found its way in. “Let me hear you my love. Let me look down and see your face while we do this.” 

“Yes! Ha! Ya! H-haldir!” The only son of Mirkwood cried out, his expression twisted but his eyes were clear and focused. The thrusts brought the loveliest rippling inside his body, entreating him to hitch his knees up and give Haldir more space to work in. He moved as his instincts commanded, panting out loud as the strokes pushed in. Haldir's name became a mantra in his brain, all other considerations erased. “More!” Legolas asked, and he was given it.

~~~

A great heron flew overhead; its graceful wings expanding out wide to embrace the eternal blue of the sky. Legolas watched it pass with a sense of calm, its path leading Westward. 

“Are we ready to begin?” Arwen asked the two. 

“We are, your majesty.” Haldir said and offered a hand to help her lie on the bench. They had brought pillows so that she might be comfortable while they worked, not knowing how long it might take. Arwen reclined easily and placed a hand on her stomach as if in preparation. He stood to her left, while Legolas took the right. Their eyes met, and a Light passed between them, building for the sake of their work ahead. 

Elves do not breed unless they choose specifically to do so. For them, the act of sex is a recreational one to be shared between consenting partners, but does not need to result in offspring unless desired by all parties involved. However, while gender is irrelevant in the choosing of a sexual or romantic partner, there are still some confines in the matter of procreation, which can be a somewhat problematic issue. Of course the elves have no prohibitions about marriage or child rearing so long as everyone involved is of age. But biology is what it is, and just as two female elves could not create a child to be born, two male elves could not bear one alone. Arwen Undomiel was not the first surrogate to act on behalf of two partners. But she might well have been the last to do so in Middle Earth. 

Haldir slowly raised his arm, extending the shaking limb out across their surrogate's body in offering to his spouse. Legolas did the same with his, crossing at the elbows so that they might form a knot by holding one another's wrists. The knot was a sacred symbol, ensuring the tight bonds of family, heritage, and loyalty. It symbolized the strength and support they would provide to their future offspring, come what may. Most importantly, it showed that they were tied together by the shared Light, and unified in their desire to bring one to love into this world. 

They listened, the three of them, to the sounds of the woods around them. The rippling of the water, the soft cry of songbirds, and the light rustling of the breeze through the leaves. All of it seemed to draw into the bubble of their glen, thrumming in their ears as they waited. 

People often think of magic as a great and overwhelming force, and they are not entirely wrong in this assumption. But they assume that because magic is a great an overwhelming force, it must behave in great and overwhelming ways. It can, it may, and often has, but in this particular instance, it merely waited to feel the pull of the elves as the Light between them began to shine like a halo wrapped about their crowns. It waited, hovering in the air, eager to become a part of this moment and formed into something that was made to be loved.

Legolas felt the comforting heat of tears on his cheeks first. He looked at Haldir and was pleased to see his beloved was not immune to this overwhelming emotion! They caught each other’s eyes and laughed between sniffles, not daring to break their hold. There was a shuddering from the core of their beings, and as they arched up towards the center, Arwen followed in suit, her breath now starting to fall into the same rhythm as theirs. The sound of three heartbeats echoed in their ears, and after a few long moments it solidified into one steady beat like the pace of a drum. 

“Now.” Legolas whispered in breathless wonder. “I can feel it. A presence, a mind coming to form.”

“Yes. Now!” Haldir and Legolas turned their hands upwards as if cradling something between them, lowering a figure made of blinding white light to their friend who lay waiting. 

Arwen raised her hands and helped guide it to her body, watching the newly made spirit glide down into her lower abdomen as if it was merely waiting patiently to be invited in. She made a soft gasp at the new sensation, her dark eyes blinking as she grew used to it. “Oh my.” she managed, fingers exploring her belly. From an outsiders view there was no difference, but oh how she felt it growing warm in her body, nestling kindly into its new home. “I can feel life within me.” A tear dropped down her cheek and her lips turned up in a welcoming smile. 

Legolas almost fell forward, sweating as he took a moment to steady himself. Haldir looked as if he were just as exhausted, leaning on his knees for support and tucking his injured arm back up to its secure position before managing to sit down and catch his breath. “I think...” Legolas started and had to start again. “I think we did it.” 

Haldir looked over with a wide, ecstatic grin on his face as he reached up to touch their friends’ stomach. “I do believe we did.”


End file.
